


Spectrum

by doryth



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Break Up, Dark, Depression, Dissociation, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Heavy Angst, Humiliation, Hurt Victor Nikiforov, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Victor Nikiforov, Insecurity, M/M, OC Antagonist, Panic Attacks, Post Season 1, Protective Katsuki Yuuri, Protective Yakov, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Revenge, Suicidal Thoughts, Victor whump, Victor-centric, Yuri P gets injured skating but this is not part of the main plot, and even a little smut, injuries, loss of reality, there will be a satisfying ending to this dont worry, victor returns to skating, yes there is also fluff and cuddlytimes you best believe it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-13 23:30:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 74,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10524195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doryth/pseuds/doryth
Summary: Everyone is happy about Victor's return to skating.Everyone except Victor himself; and a certain someone who doesn't think Victor is all that.Please mind the tags/triggers before reading.





	1. Pale Silver

 

Pale silver

 

“I’m going to die”, Victor thought, as he took the ice again for a full day of practice the first time after 8 months of only self-indulgent flirting with it and watching from the sidelines. “It’s going to kill me.”

He felt heavy and unfocused. It was difficult. He never imagined it might be hard for him to come back. He never credited Yakov’s words to him to that effect. “All those months of absence”, Yakov would say, shaking his head and frowning. Victor would laugh. “You worry too much, Yakov”, he’d say.

Now he felt the ice hard and unfamiliar under his feet. He felt like a stranger in his own home. When did that change? It’s not like he didn’t set foot on the ice at all these 8 months. He still practiced his jumps while he coached Yuuri, he still showed Yuuri how to do elements. He even idly practiced some moves for a potential new program. But Yakov was right after all. It wasn’t the same.

He used to dream in gold. Now his dreams were pale silver, like Yuuri’s medal, like his thinning hair. _It’s not about age_ , he told himself. _It’s not about age and dwindling stamina._

“Well, I’m surprised”, Yakov said, as Victor steps off the ice wearily. “This was better than I expected”, he clarified, begrudgingly, and Victor stared at him.

“Really?” he asked, disbelieving.

“Yeah. Why? You didn’t feel alright? Any pain? Discomfort?”

“No.”

“You know you have to tell me if there’s any pain or discomfort, no matter how small, Vitya.”

“I know, but it’s nothing like that. It just felt strange, tiring. Like never before.”

“To be expected. As I told you”, Yakov said, smugly, “if you take such a long break, you can’t expect to come back as good as new. But the good news is, there’s nothing physically wrong, so there’s just the mental setback to be overcome.”

The medic had examined Victor earlier that day and had pronounced him him fit for skating.

“I’d recommend some resistance training”, he told Yakov, “but other than that, his physical condition is fine.”

For his age, the specialist didn’t say, but Victor heard it anyway.

Yakov had nodded, and seemed pleased.

He still looked pleased now, as he handed Victor his blade covers.

Victor took them wordlessly, still in a brown study.

 

“How was the first day of practice?” Yuuri asked him over Skype that evening.

“It’s not like I haven’t been on the ice at all in a year”, Victor argued, defensively.

“Uh, sure you have”, Yuuri replied, hesitantly, a bit taken aback at Victor’s uncharacteristic outburst. “I just mean, it was your first day returning to the full-on competitive training regimen, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true”, Victor relented. “It was fine. A bit tiring.”

“Oh, that’s to be expected, of course-”

“I’m more curious about how your practice went, Yuuri. Do you follow your coach’s advice even when he’s gone?”

“Sure. I’m a good student”, Yuuri stated, with a self-deprecating smile.

“Only 10 days to go till the Nationals”, Victor reminded him.

“You’re one to talk”, Yuuri said. “I’ve lived and breathed these programs for months. I’ve broken your world record with one of them. You have 10 days to go till _your_ Nationals with brand new programs you’ve come up with overnight, so tell me how are _you_ holding up.”

“I told you, Yuuri, it’s fine. Honestly, I’m more worried about my free skate costume being ready on time. Probably not. I’ll have to improvise.”

His costume for the free skate was commissioned as soon as Victor had decided on the song he wanted to use – Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite. The costume was velvet with a resplendent design – the black giving way to an intense red and gold in the upper body threaded to resemble the fiery wings of the firebird.

“You were the one who wanted to go full on dramatic for your comeback”, Yuuri said, his fond tone implying he wouldn’t have had it any other way. “At least for the short program you’re all set.”

Following Yakov’s advice, Victor had decided to use his short program for last season during this year as well. It wasn’t unheard of for a skater to recycle their programs from one year to another, either for the purpose of refining them further, or because they couldn’t afford new ones; but Victor had never done it before and he didn’t like doing it now. But it was near impossible to come up with two brand new programs in 10 days – not even the genius who was Victor Nikiforov could do this, so he was forced to recognize the wisdom of Yakov’s advice and concede to it.

“I’m more excited about your competition than I am about mine, to be honest”, Yuuri laughed. “I hope I get some decent livestreams so I can watch it. Can’t wait to see your Firebird program especially.”

Victor had been practicing moves for what would eventually become his Firebird program during the 8 months when he was training Yuuri, what he thought at the time were random choreographic elements which came to his mind and he tested their flow on the ice, without even thinking them part of the program; and Yuuri had furtively watched him and liked what he saw. When he decided he’d return to skating the program for which he unknowingly had the backbone, strengthened in his mind and just flowed out of his skates, as if his body had long been familiar with it. But Yuuri did not see it, because they had already parted ways, to train for their upcoming competitions in their native countries.

Yuuri sounded so excited about watching Victor skate again that Victor didn’t have the heart to tell him his own doubts and fears.

By the end of their conversation, Yuuri’s enthusiasm has rubbed off on Victor too. He felt better about his skating. Yakov himself has told him it’s not as bad as he was expecting, which coming from him, was high praise. He just needed some getting used to. He was Victor Nikiforov. He could do this.

 

_~_

Victor heard Yuri swear very uncouthly as he fell, and was just turning around to give him a lecture ‘Just because Lilia isn’t around, it doesn’t mean you have permission to use unattractive words’ – when Yuri’s voice trailed off into a piercing shriek, which turned everyone’s heads towards him.

Yuri was half sitting, half lying down in an unnatural position, leg bent in half underneath him, and torso half twisted – he seemed to be trying to stand up, but something in him wasn’t cooperating.

“Ohhhh fuuuck!” he screamed again.

Milia and Georgi both hurried towards him, but Victor got there faster, face paling in shock – his hand outstretched to comfort, to help the young skater, who was still pitifully crying, when he heard Yakov’s booming voice from the sideline:

“Nobody touch him! Don’t move him! I’m calling an ambulance. Yuratchka, stay still, help is coming!”

Victor shrank back immediately. Of course. How stupid of him. He could do more harm than good to Yuri without knowing exactly what the problem was. Victor knew these kind of accidents were best handled by specialists.

“Give him some space”, Yakov continued.

They all moved further back, leaving space around Yuri, who remained sitting in the same position, panting heavily, tears in his eyes.

“Yurio”, Victor whispered softly, “what happened?”

Yuri’s eyes flashed angrily.

“Just for this once, you could do me the great favor and address me by my given name !” he shrieked.

“I’m sorry, Yuri – Yuratchka, please tell me, what hurts?”

“Ugh, I – I can’t move. Can’t move my lower body at all, from the waist down. If I try moving it, there’s this horrible pain in my spine.” Yuri twitched as he desperately attempted to heave himself upwards, only to give up immediately with a desperate cry.

“Maybe you shouldn’t try moving anymore, Yuri”, Mila said, tears in her eyes, face scrunched up in pity. “Wait for the ambulance, the doctors will figure it out.”

“Mila, you don’t suppose I’m – I tell you what it feels like, it feels like I’m paralyzed. What if I’m fucking paralyzed for life, I tell you guys one thing, if I am, I’m not gonna stand for this, I’m gonna....”

“Shut up, you child!” Victor raised his voice at him. “Of course you’re not paralyzed! This is probably a sprain, or a pinched nerve-“

“You shut up, you old geezer, you don’t know everything!” Yuri lashed out at him. “Leave me alone, fuck right off back to Japan, why don’t you!”

Victor bit back an equally angry remark, as Georgi put a hand on his shoulder:

“You shouldn’t aggravate him,” he said, sternly.

“Everybody except Yuratchka, leave the ice right now”, Yakov boomed. “The ambulance should be here soon.”

They all obeyed, murmuring words of reassurance and courage to Yuri, whose usual scowling features were now frozen in a touching mix of bewilderment and pain. Victor lingered a little. Yuri looked so frail and dejected, that Victor felt his heart breaking. In spite of the hurtful words that Yuri had just sprouted at him, and in spite of Yakov’s warning, Victor wanted nothing more than to envelop the angry hurt child in front of him in a tight loving hug and comfort him the best he could.

“You’ll be alright, Yuratchka”, he said, warmly. “You have to compete against me at the Nationals. I won’t let you off the hook so easily.”

Yuri sniffed:

“Stop pretending you care about me”, he answered, viciously.

“Victor!” Yakov shouted at him, annoyed.

Victor reluctantly skated off to join everyone else at the rink side.

“I do care about you”, he mumbled, to no one in particular.

 

Yuri was diagnosed with a ruptured disc, and strictly ordered bed rest for a couple of weeks, and only gradual physiotherapy after that. The doctor had strictly forbidden a return to the ice any earlier than April. He would miss not only the Russian Nationals, but also the Europeans and the Worlds.

Victor debated whether or not to tell Yuuri about the accident when they skyped again that evening; he didn’t want to make Yuuri worry and he was superstitiously afraid of bringing the same bad luck to Yuuri if he told him. He needn’t have worried, because Yuuri already knew. Turned out Yakov had called to tell him.

“Wow”, Victor said, genuinely surprised. “Looks like you’re really part of the family now.”

Yuuri blushed, but looked quietly pleased for a moment. It warmed Victor’s heart.

“I can’t wait to have you here”, he said.

“I can’t wait to be there as well”, Yuuri answered. “Especially now I wish I was. I’m so sorry for Yurio.”

“Be sure not to call him Yurio, unless you wanna be bad-mouthed.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t deprive him of the opportunity to bad-mouth me. I know how he relishes it.”

“That’s true”, Victor acknowledged, and smiled genuinely for the first time that day.


	2. Muddy Grey

 

Muddy Grey

 

_December, Russian Nationals_

 

The days until the Russian Nationals passed too quickly for Victor. He didn’t have time to worry about Yuuri’s performance at the Japanese Nats, because he was too worried about his own, and Yuuri was quick to reassure him that he was fine everytime they talked. Victor was sure Yuuri was secretly anxious but hiding it for his sake. It made Victor ache with how much he wanted to be close to him.

The day of the short program, Victor warmed up backstage, trying to ignore the furtive looks of the rest of the skaters in his group. Some of them were on casual speaking terms with him, some were completely unknown to Victor, but all of them had roughly the same carefully neutral expression, disguising a burning curiosity about Victor. What would our national hero do this time? What indeed, Victor thought, tiredly. Always, the politely masked curiosity, always the self-imposed distance. Victor much preferred Yuri’s bluntness.

Not everyone looked interested in Victor though. Victor noticed one of the skaters, whose name he did not know, resolutely staring ahead with a frown, seemingly gathering his inner focus. He had a heavy build, his stocky frame, with well defined muscles, made him appear more like a boxer than a skater. Victor wondered if he was as much of a fighter as his physique seemed to suggest. Someone brushed against his arm as he stretched, and apologized for it, receiving only a raised eyebrow in return. This wasn’t very nice, but Victor was curious to see him skate, and relieved that at least someone was paying him no mind.

Turned out that Andrey Sarychev, as Victor eventually learned was the skater’s name, was actually working hard to ignore Victor’s overall existence. After his performance – which was indeed technically quite good, being interviewed backstage, Andrey flashed an easy smile and remarked:

“I see myself climbing the podium all the way to the top with this performance and such a score!”

The interviewer laughed politely and replied:

“That may very well happen, if it weren’t for the return of one Victor Nikiforov to the ice!”

Andrey laughed, a little strained.

“Oh yes, indeed.”

The interviewer had already turned, watching Victor, who was warming up a little further away, with Yakov watching over him, pretending he didn’t overhear the conversation.

Andrey Sarychev finally looked in Victor’s direction.

“Oh hello”, Sarychev finally acknowledged him, with a slight scoff. “The untouchable Victor Nikiforov. The living legend.”

He nodded once in Victor’s direction, and Victor, who couldn’t tell if he was being mocked or not, replied, shortly:

“Hello.”

 

As Victor went into the locker room to change into his costume, he bumped into Sarychev who was coming in.

“Good luck out there”, Sarychev said, and reached for him. It should have been an innocuous gesture, a hug, a pat; instead, Victor was grabbed and _groped_ – there wasn’t a better word for it, as insistent hands squeezed and pawed at his hips and the swell of his ass. It lasted barely a second, Andrey grunting in his neck, before letting him go abruptly. Victor staggered a little, confused and rattled. He hesitated, torn between calling Sarychev out on it and ignoring it as a misguided attempt at being friendly. It didn’t seem enough to make a big fuss over and if he did, Victor would be the one made to look like an idiot.

But it was still enough to put Victor out of sorts, and that, Victor finally understood, was probably what Andrey was aiming for.

Victor went onto the ice and skated his short program with what the commentators were quick to call his usual impecable form, and if his movements were a little less self-assured, that was only for Victor to know.

The scores after the short program put Victor in the lead by a considerable margin.

Sarychev came over to shake his hand:

“A lovely performance”, he said, on an indulgent tone. “The ice sure loves you. As do the judges.”

Victor bristled. There was something about Sarychev’s indulgent tone which set his nerves on edge.

“Yes, thank you. I love skating, and it shows”, he replied, with less than his usual panache.

 

Victor didn’t know how to feel. He skated clean, he took the lead after the SP, so why did he feel unsatisfied with himself? It was silly. He decided not to dwell on this new uncomfortable feeling. Tomorrow he would skate his new free program for the first time and the crowd would surely love it. He was Victor Nikiforov and he was back. And Sarychev was right about one thing – the ice loved him.

 

“Are you alright?” Yuuri asked him over skype that evening.

“Yes”, Victor answered. “Why?”

“I don’t know, you seem a little...distracted. You took the lead in the SP, I’d imagined you’d be happier about it.”

“I’m just thinking about my LP tomorrow. I’d have liked to have the costume for it ready. This program and the costume go together.”

The costume for The Firebird wasn’t ready yet, so Victor was going to wear one of his older ones, a plain black costume with sequined silver lines.

“I’m sure it will be great”, Yuuri reassured him. “I wish I could see it, unfortunately I don’t think I can get a livestream.”

“I think that’s why I feel wrong about this season. I don’t like recycled things. Recycled SP, recycled costume for the LP... It makes me feel...passé.”

“You gave me one of your old costumes, and it went over just great with a new short program you made”, Yuuri reminded him.

Victor’s eyes softened:

“That was different”, he answered. He studied Yuuri. “Are you going to be alright tomorrow?”

“Don’t worry about me, Victor,” Yuuri said, quickly, dismissive of his own anxiety. “You’ve got enough on your plate. I’ll just imagine you’re there, watching me. I’ll be fine.”

Victor smiled at him, affectionately.

“You’ll be great, Yuuri.” I love you, he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to make things awkward, still wary of frightening Yuuri away.

 

The next day, Victor walked into the locker room to hear Sarychev lazily recounting his own opinion about Yuri to a few other skaters.

“Plisetsky had it coming”, Andrey shrugged. “He didn’t take good care of himself. Not enough resistance training. Pushed himself beyond his limit. His body betrayed him. Figure skating is a tough sport. You need a tough constitution for it. Fortunately, I have what it takes.”

“Talent is also important,” Victor couldn’t help adding, as he set his bag down.

“Of course”, Andrey startled, with an exaggerated bow in his direction. “Something our national hero has in spades.”

Victor frowned slightly, and decided to ignore his mocking leer.

He wasn’t going to let this guy rattle him. Whatever game he was playing, Victor wouldn’t join in.

 

The crowd was roaring as Victor finished his long program.

Victor was used to feeling eyes on him, but this pair of eyes wasn’t friendly. Sarychev was simply staring at him, eyes fixed and slightly narrowed.

'He’s simply gathering focus for his performance, because it will be his turn soon', Victor told himself. 'It’s nothing personal.'

As Victor stepped off the ice and onto the rinkside, the hateful frown didn’t waver.

“I could just break you in two", Sarychev muttered, staring Victor down as he passed him by, but the noise of the crowd blocked out his words from reaching Victor’s ears.

 

Predictably, the podium for the Russian Nationals had Victor Nikiforov in first place. Andrey Sarychev came in second, while Georgi Popovich took third.

Later, in the locker room, Russia’s top three skaters (minus the one who was currently sulking in bed after his injury), exchanged a few pleasantries.

Georgi shook Andrey’s hand gamely:

“Strong performance, Andrey! But even you have to admit – the best man won!” He embraced Victor warmly, with a genuine smile: “See you at practice, Victor! I gotta be off now – I have a date!”

He rushed off and there was a momentary silence, which threatened to become awkward, so Victor rushed to fill it:

“Heh, a date! Georgi is so funny. Who schedules a date after a competition? Georgi, that’s who.”

Andrey didn’t join in the obvious attempt at lighthearted conversation.

“The best man won...”, he repeated, quietly, as if to himself, and then louder: “No. No.”

Victor’s smile turned icy:

“What do you mean?” he demanded.

“You won because you’re pretty. Not on any fair merit”, Andrey answered bluntly. “I’m the strongest, my technique was rock solid and I was barely out of breath at the end of the program. You wobbled your jumps – you didn’t land properly, on the outside edge. At your age, who could blame you, right? But the judges should’ve checked – they should’ve watched the replay in slow motion, and they would’ve seen that and then you wouldn’t have got that high score. But they never check, do they? Not for ‘living legend’ Victor Nikiforov, our national hero, who looks so pristine and elegant on the ice. Pretty like a doll.”

Andrey advanced on him and Victor only had time to say, on a voice dripping with hatred:

“Don’t touch me” – before Andrey, in a horribly fast move, grabbed Victor’s face and licked over his stubbornly closed mouth.

“I fuck dolls like you every other day. But figure skating is a sport. If you wobble through it, you shouldn’t get high marks. If you don’t have the stamina, you should just quit.”

Andrey still had Victor’s chin in a tight, painful grip, and that seemed to paralyze Victor who did not even try to shove him away, just stared him in the eye with the deepest loathing.

“But that doesn’t matter really”, Andrey continued, “I’ll have you beaten anyway, fair and square – even the silly judges will have to admit your defeat.”

He let go of Victor and stepped back, and once released, Victor felt he could move, and with that, his fury abruptly rose in him:

“How dare y-“ , he began.

“Oh and” – Andrey said on a bored tone, turning around, as if he had just remembered something, “we’ll be friendly rivals in the eye of the public of course. Even though you and I know differently. Da?”

Victor didn’t answer.

“See you at the Europeans.”

 

Victor stood in the empty locker room for a while, breathing deeply. He was shaking with anger, all the more so since he didn’t speak out, he had just let Andrey bully him.

It was all a strategy, to sink his morale, to make him feel cheap and worthless.

How could he let this guy get to him like this?

It was ridiculous.

He went out, slamming the door and went to look for Yakov.

 

“Is it true that Sarychev has been selected for the Europeans?” Victor asked Yakov, without any preamble.

“Yes, he was. He looks really promising.”

“He does, doesn’t he. He’s good, damnit.”

“There’s no need for you to feel threatened by him, Vitya. There’s no way he can surpass you.”

“He sure feels confident enough to. Um do you – do you know his coach?”

Yakov shrugged.

“Briefly. We were rink mates back in the day when I was competing. Professional guy, he’s done well as a coach.”

“Mhm.”

“What’s bothering you, Vitya?”

“Eh. I don’t know. I’m just out of sorts. Being back is strange, I suppose – and then the thing that happened with Yuri –“

“Yes”, Yakov nodded, darkening.

“I hope so much that he’ll be alright. I’d give anything for him to be alright.”

“Vitya. I’m very upset as well, but we mustn’t let this crush us. I have two good boys still in the fold. You and Georgi are both podium material at the Europeans. And Yuratchka will be fine. He’s young, he’s got many seasons ahead of him.”

“Yakov, is there something wrong with my jumps recently?”

“Where is this coming from, Vitya?”

“Sarychev seems to think so.”

Yakov shrugged it off.

“He’s trying to intimidate you. He’s good, he _knows_ he’s good, and there’s no way anyone can deny that he has technical merit, so he’s trying to work this to his advantage. But he doesn’t have advantage over you, not the way he is at the moment. He may be a jump machine, but he really needs to work on his interpretation. He’s got no personality on the ice.”

“But he has youth and stamina going for him. And an iron grip of the basics.”

Yakov shrugged again, unconcernedly.

“He has no chance of surpassing you, unless he changes something drastic about him. To surpass you, he must surpass himself first. And anyway, since when are you scared of a little challenge, Vitya? I thought rivalry motivated you.”

“This is no friendly rivalry, Yakov. I have a feeling that he hates me. He wants to ignore me, pretend I’m not a challenge, but his best laid plans get thwarted by me winning. He doesn’t take this well.”

“He’s an ambitious young man, sure. And he may be a little rough around the edges. But hate you? Surely not.”

“We need to work on my jumps, Yakov. I’m going to put in extra time to practice all my jumps. Please be there with me and watch me – tell me when I’m not doing it right. Please?”

“Alright. Practice can’t hurt. Especially since you took a year off on a whim.”

Yakov never wasted an opportunity to jab him in regards to that, but his words had long lost their venom.

Victor smiled and relaxed, reassured.

 

~

“No one tells me anything anymore”, Yura wailed plaintively, picking morosely at his get well soon cake.

“What do you mean?” Victor asked.

“About skating. They talk to me about cats, the weather, politics, anything but what I really want to hear. I guess they’re afraid I’m gonna throw a tantrum.”

“I’ll talk to you about skating”, Victor said, brightly. “What do you wanna know?”

“Huh. Okay. Who’s big favorite now that I’m on the bench? I mean, aside from you.”

“That would be Andrey Sarychev.”

“Huh? Never heard of him. Who he?”

“Eh. Just some guy who bragged he could beat you.”

“Moron”, Yuri said, automatically. “He any good?”

“No. Well, yes. He got second place at the Nationals, beat Georgi by a large margin.”

Yuri gestured with his fork impatiently, mouth full:

“Details, old man. How are his jumps? Step sequence? Choreo? Who’s his coach?”

“Why don’t you ask Yakov about all that?” Victor asked wearily. “I don’t really feel like talking about him.”

“I told you, no one tells me anything about skating. And wow, you must feel very threatened by him, if you don’t want to talk about him.”

“No – it’s just that I’d rather not talk about him. I don’t like him. He’s a bully.”

“A bully? You mean a self centered jerk like JJ?”

“More like trying to intimidate his opponents by being a jerk.”

“Really? What’d he do?” Yuri pressed, eyes alight with curiosity.

“Nothing special, just his attitude.”

“Fine, don’t tell me then!” Yuri bristled. “It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re still the one to beat.”

Victor gulped, strangely touched by Yuri’s unexpected and backhanded compliment.

“Guess you really were looking forward to competing against me.”

“It was all I could think about ever since you announced your comeback at the Nationals. I mean, once it became clear that Katsudon wasn’t gonna retire. I’d have killed him if he retired.”

“Not if I killed him first”, Victor smiled. “He sends best wishes of health and love, by the way.”

“Yeah right.”

“He’s pissed that he won’t face you at Worlds to pay you back for his defeat at the Grand Prix, but...”

“Just you wait, you be sure to tell him that. Just you wait till Plisetsky’s allowed back on the ice, those words exactly _.”_

“You can tell him yourself”, Victor grinned. “He’s arriving tomorrow.”

“Bet you’re happy about that, huh?” Yuri said, with an overstated eye roll.

“So happy I could sing.”

“Gross. He’s gonna train at our rink, right?”

“Yep!”

“God, I hate that I’m stuck off ice for months! I hate it! I’m missing so much, damnit. I should be out there! It’s not fair!”

Victor reached out and patted Yuri’s hair absently. Yuri jerked away from the affectionate gesture, grumbling.

“Guess you’re lucky. I’d have beaten you, old man, and Katsudon, too.”

“I never wanted to get lucky like this”, Victor answered sincerely. “And neither did Yuuri. Are you gonna let me hug you now or will you bite my hand off if I try?”

“Whatever. You better tell me everything about the Europeans.”

“You’ll see videos.”

“Videos aren’t enough. I feel I’m missing so much”, he repeated. “I should be out there.”

 _No_ , Victor thought. _No you shouldn’t. You’re safe and perfect where you are for now. I wouldn’t want you out there these days._


	3. Charcoal

 

Charcoal

 

_European Championships, January_

 

Yuuri remembered his life in Russia prior to ‘the event’ only in bits and pieces, like the sliding frames of a kaleidoscope.

 

It was Yuuri’s first day at the rink in St. Petersburg and he saw Yakov and Victor angrily arguing in Russian. His anxious mind immediately assumed it was about him, and as soon as Victor stormed off, he plucked up his courage and went to Yakov:

“Um...please, if you don’t mind, the thing you were discussing just now with Victor – it was about....”, he trailed off, shuffling, leaving Yakov to fill in the blanks.

Yakov threw him a quick look, then grunted.

“Victor is asking for all his jumps to be recorded”, the old coach eventually clarified. “I told him I’m not Celestino.”

“Oh. _Oh._ But why would he want....?”

“Beats me. I told him it’s pointless, but he just keeps at it. Stubborn man”, Yakov snarled, a vein in his head throbbing dangerously.

“I’ll - I’ll do it”, Yuuri volunteered.

“No”, Yakov cut him off shortly. “You’ve got your own practice to do.”

-

“My costume for the LP arrives tomorrow”, Viktor told Yuuri excitedly.

“That’s great! I can’t wait to see it!”

“I’m going to skate for a while in it, get used to it before the competition.”

“Of course.”

“And I’d like you to do something for me, Yuuri.”

“Anything.”

“I know Yakov’s told you not to, but can you please record my jumps in HD? I need to be able to review them afterwards.”

“Sure I will, Victor.”

“Thanks, Yuuri!”

-

“What the hell are you doing, Yuuri?” Yakov barked at him.

Yuuri almost dropped the camera.

“Um, I’ve been – he – Victor actually asked me to –“

“I thought I told you not to waste your time with this. Officially, I’m your coach as well, Yuuri.”

“I’m sorry. But I figured – once or twice –“

“Vitya, you’re like a petulant child!” Yakov redirected his ire to his old student who was skating towards them.

“The Europeans are in three days, Yakov, and I –“

“And you have absolutely nothing to worry about!” Yakov cut him off. “Vitya, stop this nonsense or you’ll drive me into an early grave. There is nothing wrong with your jumps, they are not under rotated and there are no errors in your landings. Your jumps are as technically accurate as they’ve ever been since you started winning everything. Do you think that I of all people, would lie to you about something like this? Or do you think that I would choose to waste my time, and yours too, if I thought you didn’t have it in you anymore? Please, Vitya. Give me some credit.”

Yakov’s no-nonsense attitude managed to somehow reassure Victor, who smiled warmly and said:

“I give you all the credit, Yakov. You’re the only coach for me.”

Yakov’s face remained impassive.

“If only that meant you’d listen to me. Now be off the both of you and get some rest before the plane ride tomorrow.”

 

~

“My thirst for winning is extraordinary”, Sarychev said on the tv, flashing a grin at the interviewer, who blushed. I know I’m the strongest and the youngest and my full potential is just waiting to be released.”

Victor stared intently at the image on the screen. Andrey Sarychev was unnerving him.

Yuuri was just approaching him, and mistook his look for something else.

“Uh, Victor?”

“God”, Victor hissed through his teeth, “this guy makes me so mad. Look at how he talks. Look at his smug fucking face.”

“Oh, you’re swearing. You really are mad. Um” – Yuuri redirected his attention to the tv screen. “Ah... he just seems driven to me, I guess. Kind of like JJ.”

Victor twisted his face in a grimace.

“Well, JJ is unlikeable enough, but this asshole – “

“Wow. Victor, it isn’t like you to be so aggressive towards your competitors.”

“How do you know how I am when I’m competing?” Victor snapped rather loudly, but before he even got the words out, he regretted it. “Ack! God, Yuuri, I didn’t mean to yell at you, I’m sorry. Screw this, I’m so sorry, Yuuri.”

He turned and enveloped Yuuri in a tight close hug, rocking him slowly, while Yuuri struggled to make sense of Victor’s abrupt mood shifts.

_It’s the stress of the competition and coaching,_ Yuuri told himself. And another little voice in his head added: _It’s your fault._

“I didn’t mean it, love,” Victor repeated, still rocking him.

“Uh- it’s okay, Victor. Um, I can’t breathe, please – “

Victor loosened his hold but didn’t let go.

“You forgive me?” he asked Yuuri, corners of his mouth downturned, eyes wide and sad.

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

“I yelled at you, I –“

“You’re nervous, you’re stressed. I get it. I know how it feels better than anyone.”

Victor nodded, gratefully:

“Yeah. Oh, Yuuri.” I love you was almost on his lips again but he dodged it at the last second.

Instead Victor kissed Yuuri’s temple chastely, still holding him close. “So sorry”, he mumbled again, muffled into Yuuri’s hair.

-

On the short plane ride to Moscow, Victor dozed on Yuuri’s shoulder like he almost always did during plane rides. When he woke up, he briefly squeezed Yuuri’s hand, with the bleary uncertainty of the abruptly awakened, and then seemingly forgot to let go of it. Yuuri liked remembering that particular moment most of all.

 

~

It was the day of the SP at the Europeans, and Victor was doing his best to avoid Sarychev, in the well practiced Victor Nikiforov way of simply ignoring the people he didn’t like. It worked with JJ, it should work with this guy too, he figured.

Except that Sarychev seemed to try his damnedest to get in Victor’s way, just to rattle him.

_It’s just a trick_ , Victor would repeat to himself _. It’s like Yakov said, he’s trying to intimidate me. I won’t let it get to me._

He went into the locker room to change into his costume and gather focus while Sarychev skated his SP, making a point out of not watching his performance.

There were two other skaters in the locker room, who looked flustered at the sight of him, and lingered only for a little while, then scampered off. Victor huffed in frustration. But then he remembered how Yuuri had acted like this as well, when Victor first arrived to Hasetsu, and his lips curled in an amused and affectionate smile. He got into his costume and was just thinking of calling Yuuri to help him with the zipper, not because he needed to, but because he wanted to see Yuuri blush, and maybe get some extra touches to go with the help. But at that moment, Sarychev came into the locker room, sweaty and puffing after his performance, looking around with the air of a tsar who was entering his dominion.

“All done out there”, he declared, to no one in particular. “Yeah!”

Sarychev’s voice raised abruptly on the last word, and Victor startled slightly, but then went right back to ignoring him, as planned.

Sarychev looked around, noticed Victor, and taunted:

“Shall I zip you up?”

“I got it”, Victor bit out, looking over his shoulder as he bent his arms backwards and pulled the zipper up all the way.

“I never understood the point of these silly costumes,” he heard Sarychev’s voice, from much too close.

Victor turned his head abruptly, and he shifted, nervously trying to put some well-needed space between them, and that’s when he realized that Andrey was hard, the outline of his cock obscenely tenting his pants.

“I’m always so keyed up after a performance”, Sarychev laughed unconcernedly, as he followed Victor’s stare. “Aren’t you?” He took another step further, almost touching Victor.

Victor flinched and tried to kick – Andrey just grabbed him by the lower arms and pushed him fully against the wall, trapping him there.

Victor struggled against the other’s bulkier frame, in what was ultimately a fruitless effort. He gathered his wits, and said, on as steady a voice as he could make it:

“If you don’t let me go, I’ll scream. I don’t care about making a scandal, and I don’t care if it comes crashing down on both of us. I don’t care if it destroys my career, as you undoubtedly want. But I’m taking you down with me. Let go of me and don’t touch me ever again, or I’ll start screaming.”

“And tell them what? That I’ve been feeling you up in the locker room? And that you _let me_?”

Angry tears sprang into Victor’s eyes at the unfairness of the situation.

“I’m not stupid enough as to actually hurt you”, Sarychev continued. “You’d have no proof I did anything to you. It will be just a sordid little story to tarnish your brilliant career.”

“You’re right, I won’t tell. I’ll break your dick instead.”

Andrey tightened his grip on Victor’s upper arms and murmured, lips brushing against his hair:

“Careful, doll, if you try to do me any actual damage, then all bets are off about not hurting you. And in a good, honest fight between you and me, who do you think will win? Hm?”

He looked down at Victor, who was shocked to see that Sarychev was actually expecting an answer.

“Tell me, Victor, do you honestly think you would win over me, in a good honest fight?”

“Perhaps not in a boxing match, but I’d still beat you out there on the ice any day”, Victor eventually said, voice trembling with anger.

Sarychev laughed:

“You really think so? No, Victor. I would win. Because I’m stronger.”

Victor tried to shake him off again, but Sarychev held him in place, and went on, conversationally:

“You know, I do like watching you out there, on the ice. You’re a lovely thing. I get it. People like you. _I_ like you. I used to admire you so much when I was younger. But now, you’re like a pretty classic car which has long been outmatched by newer, sharper models. People like having it around, and maybe take it for a ride, from time to time – know what I mean? But they know it doesn’t measure up. They speak of it fondly, but they wouldn’t bet on it in a race. And soon, it passes from classic to outdated. Its value becomes historical. People rarely speak of it, and when they do, it’s only to mention how it has been surpassed. This is you, Victor. Do you get it now?”

Trapped against the wall of the locker room, with Andrey’s intent voice close to his ear, Victor believed every single poisonous word. Reality was shifting around him and suddenly the only world that Victor could envision was the one which Andrey’s words was eloquently painting. He forgot in that moment that he was as yet undefeated champion, still essentially on top of the world. He had not lost any championship in more than 5 years. But in that moment, he already saw himself at the finish line, outstaying his welcome.

Perhaps he gasped or otherwise showed his distress, because he felt Andrey smirk and press his hard length against his thigh, as he crushed him heavily against the wall. Victor shuddered and suddenly the angry tears he had tried to keep at bay started to pour freely down his cheeks and he couldn’t quite bite back a loud sob.

Andrey pulled back immediately, and studied him, frowning:

“God, you even cry pretty. I’m going to let you go now, alright? Pull yourself together. Don’t make a scene.”

Sarychev sounded marginally wary and unsettled, but there was also satisfaction in his voice when he said:

“Didn’t imagine you’d break quite so soon. Good luck out there, Victor.”

A wet smearing kiss applied at the corner of Victor’s mouth, briefly sampling the taste of his tears, and then Andrey let go of his arms and stepped back abruptly out of reach, as if afraid Victor would lash out. Victor did no such thing. He stumbled on unsteady feet towards the bench, where he rummaged in his bag for a towel, and wiped at his face, ignoring Andrey completely.

“Good”, Andrey nodded. “See you”, he said, then left.

Victor stared at his face in the locker room mirror and tried to anchor himself in a friendlier reality. He looked like hell – wide, red-rimmed eyes standing out in his overly pale face. He took out the powder and started dabbing at his face, in an effort to mask his unsettlement – his vulnerability? His inadequacy? He felt weak and stupid doing it.

His phone abruptly rang, making him jump. He didn’t even glance at it until he finished the job, to some semblance of satisfaction. He ran a finger through his hair, settling it in place, and finally looked at his phone, which had been stubbornly ringing all this while.

It was Yuuri.

He took a few deep breaths, wondering briefly how his voice would sound when he answered. He tested it before he answered. ‘Hello’ – he muttered. No, it wouldn’t do. ‘Hello!’ he said again, aiming for cheerful. Okay, slightly better. He answered:

“Hi, Yuuri~”

“Victor! I’ve been calling you for ages! Didn’t you hear?”

“I was just warming up.”

“Without your coach? Yakov has been trying to reach you.”

“Oh, I – I just wanted some time to myself, to put myself together.”

“Nerves before a performance? That’s usually me, Victor”, Yuuri laughed self-deprecatingly. “Well, I wanted to see you before you go on the ice, but if you’re busy...”

“No, no. I want to see you, Yuuri. I’ll be right there.”

“Good. Because like I said, Yakov is looking for you as well.”

 

“Where did you disappear to, Vitya? It’s almost your turn!” Yakov remonstrated with him.

It took a single searching look for Yakov to realize Victor wasn’t alright.

“What’s wrong?” the old coach asked in Russian.

“Nothing”, Victor answered, also in Russian. “Just nervous.”

Yakov narrowed his eyes at him.

“I’ve known you long enough so I can tell when something’s wrong.”

Victor gritted his teeth:

“I’m _fine._ ”

Yuuri was staring from one to the other, surprised and hurt to be left out of the conversation.

Yakov sighed and continued in English, uncharacteristically gentle:

“You were never one to need reassurance, Vitya. If anything, I always needed to take you down a notch. I’m a little at a loss with how to deal with this new side of you. You know I don’t do mushy stuff.”

Victor softened as well, grasping his shoulder, reassuringly.

“You don’t need to, Yakov. Thank you.”

Yuuri had shyly slipped his hand into Victor’s, asking him if with his eyes if everything was indeed alright; and Victor nodded briefly, forcing himself to smile.

“Better be going now.”

 

Victor hit his skates on the ice like a nervous horse, mentally composing himself.

Yuuri and Yakov were rinkside. Yuuri was eyeing him worriedly, in silence, still holding his hand, and Yakov was speaking to him in low tones, in his usual, steadfast way.

Victor’s eyes turned to Yuuri and held his gaze. His fiance’s beautiful brown eyes were soft with warmth and affection. Yuuri’s aura radiated love and comfort and Victor basked in it, feeling his frayed nerves calm slightly. Yuuri smiled at him and squeezed his hand. Victor squeezed back, gripping Yuuri’s fingers tightly, then hugged Yakov and skated away to start his short program.

 

Victor knew as soon as he finished that his performance wasn’t one of his best; he had skated gracefully but without his usual energy and conviction.

Yakov told him as much in the kiss and cry; and Victor nodded unconcernedly; he was less preoccupied with that than with the technical aspect. He was bewildered by the overall high score he got for a program where he knew he didn’t shine.

“Well, those marks were better than I expected”, Yakov said, sounding pleased.

Victor paled.

“I want to see the HD recording of my program, as soon as possible,” he said, immediately.

“Why don’t you wait until tomorrow and then you can watch both your SP and your LP.”

“No. I want to see it today. And I want HD of Sarychev’s SP, too. Please, Yakov. You can get them for me, yes?”

Victor stood up to smile and wave at the camera and the crowd with automatic gestures and dead eyes, then turned to leave the kiss and cry. Yakov followed him with a long-suffering sigh.

“I don’t know what you’re hoping to get from watching your performance, but I recommend as your coach to go home and rest. You’ll need it before tomorrow,” Yakov told him on a low tone as they walked off.

“You’ll be watching it with me, Yakov and tell me if I-“

“No”, Yakov cut him short. “It’s counter-productive to over-analyze a performance which has already received high marks. And even if it weren’t, if there was any cause for concern, we will decide what we need to work on after tomorrow. Right now, you are as ready as you’ll ever be for the long program, so I recommend a good rest. You always did lie in until the last moment before competitions and it always paid off. Do the same now.”

Victor nodded, absentmindedly.

 

~

“There!!” Victor almost screamed.

Yuuri entered the room, alarmed.

Yakov did produce the requested recording after all and Victor was watching it at home, later that night.

As Yuuri came in, Victor paused, rewinded then pressed play on the slo-mo video of a jump.

“You see?” he asked Yuuri. He paused the video again and pointed. “I bent too much at the start and I could not fix it during the jump.”

Yuuri said nothing.

Victor pressed play again and bit his lip in chagrin, watching himself on the screen land the jump in slo-mo.

“And there, you see?” he continued bitterly. “I was slow to stop the rotation so I could have a smooth landing. I was too much on the toe pick and lost balance, I wobbled it. He was right. I wobbled it”, Victor muttered, as if to himself, thunderstruck.

Yuuri frowned, as he took the remote from Victor and replayed the jump.

“Victor...”, he said. “The jump was clean, almost textbook. You did not over-rotate or under-rotate, your take-off edges and landing edges were correct. You did land toe-pick first because your body was very bent in mid-air, but then look at how flawlessly you redressed that, in the very next moment. Anyone else would have probably fallen, but you saved it and marvelously too.” Yuuri paused on Victor’s redressed landing position, which looked smooth and elegant, arms stretched wide apart, free leg straight and right leg bent on the ice at the perfect angle. “You can draw a line from your right foot to your right shoulder, see? Wow,” Yuuri gushed.

“These are tricks I’ve picked up to regain my balance – I’m doing them pretty much unconsciously”, Victor grumbled impatiently.

Yuuri stared. It was completely unlike Victor to brush aside compliments like that.

“Point is – the jump was _not_ perfect. The judges should’ve watched in slo-mo and picked up on the inaccuracies. I need to show this to Yakov.”

“Why is this so important, Victor?”

“Because he said I don’t make mistakes, that I wouldn’t, that he’d _know if I did_!”

“Yakov is a good coach. I’m sure that if he thought that mistake was relevant, he would have said. He’s not the type to ignore shortcomings in his students, isn’t he? I mean – you know him way better than I do, does this sound about right?”

“Yes”, Victor admitted reluctantly. “But I still didn’t deserve to be scored so high for that jump.”

“Victor, even if you scored less on that one particular element, it hardly would’ve affected your overall score! You took the lead my more than 20 points!”

“Yuuri, look at it this way,” Victor sighed. “Sarychev skated clean, his jumps were higher, and he landed all of them perfectly. I checked.”

“Okay, and the judges saw that too, and he received good technical marks, didn’t he?” Yuuri said, confused as to what Victor was driving at.

“Not as good as mine.”

“Well, no, because you’re _better.”_

“I was overscored.”

“Victor....”, Yuuri sighed, a bit amused. “I can’t believe I have to tell you this, but overscoring does happen, as does underscoring. It’s the reality of the sport. However, for the record, I do not believe that you were overscored. Not now, not ever.”

Victor snorted a little, and Yuuri’s eyes hardened, when he continued:

“You forget that I’ve been watching you for a long time, and I paid attention. I analysed your every move, replayed them over and over again. Believe me, I would have noticed if you made mistakes. And I’m not the only one. Skaters all over the world learned their quads from you. Because they’re textbook clean.”

“But if I’ve started making mistakes –“

“One. You made one small, random mistake, which is in itself rather charming, in an otherwise breathtaking program.”

“Sarychev-“

“You’re obsessed with that guy, do you know that? He may be good technically, but he has no presence on ice, whereas you step on the ice and immediately command everyone’s attention.”

“Why?” Victor asked, petulantly. “Why do I command everyone’s attention?”

“Because you’re _you.”_

“Exactly. Because you all know me as Victor Nikiforov, the living legend, and it’s a stretch of imagination to assume otherwise.”

“Whoa”, Yuuri reacted. Where is all this coming from?”

“I don’t know”, Victor lied.

“Are you implying that we’re all _wilfully_ ignoring your mistakes?”

Victor remained silent, and Yuuri shook his head, bewildered.

“Victor”, he finally said, on a reasonable tone. “You have years of experience over Sarychev. Not to mention your talent. There is nothing unfair about you scoring so high. You’re a genius at what you do and you never fail to surprise me.”

Victor smiled briefly at Yuuri and leaned over to kiss him.

Yuuri kissed him back, relieved.

“Now let’s go to bed. You need to rest before tomorrow.”

Victor’s smile faded immediately when Yuuri turned.

~

 

Victor was the last to skate his LP.

It should have been a great day for him, dressed in his new costume, his great comeback, the Moscow crowd, faces bright and smiling, chanting his name. He used to draw his energy and motivation from the crowd, from their admiration and their gasps of awe – but today he felt discouraged because he didn’t think he could even meet their expectations. His motto was always surpassing people’s expectations, scattering them into the wind to create new ones, but how could he do that, when he suddenly felt so unsure? He didn’t only want the affectionate support of his fans, he wanted their earth-shattering enthusiasm. If he couldn’t achieve that anymore, what good was he?

Victor drummed his fingers on the sideboard restlessly, a shadow crossing his face at that thought.

Yakov was studying him carefully, with a displeased expression.

“I don’t like your attitude today”, he told Victor. “I didn’t like it yesterday, today I like it even less. You’re not focused. You seem scattered, nervous. Dull. Are you coming down with something?”

Victor gave a non-committal grunt.

Yakov lowered his voice:

“Are you still thinking about that jump you called me at 2 am to tell me about? Stop thinking about it! Even if there was a mistake, what’s done is done! Time to look ahead! That’s an order from your coach. For goodness sake, Vitya, you’re not a junior at his first competition! Show some confidence!”

Yakov placed a hand on his shoulder and continued:

“With no false modesty, I am telling you that I am one of the best coaches in the world, and it is my professional opinion that you are the best skater in this competition. Now show me a performance worthy of that.”

Victor looked at Yakov, and at Yuuri standing next to him, who nodded and offered him a besotted smile – Victor smiled at him sadly in return. Where he had seen love and support before, now he saw only pity and willful blindness. They were blind to his flaws – or worse, they noticed them but chose to ignore them, because they cherished the legend of him too much – too much to bother about the man underneath. That he could think that about Yuuri of all people was a testimony to how far gone Victor was, how much Sarychev’s wily hateful words had wormed their way into his mind, where they’d been steadily growing, feeding on his insecurities, like devious parasites. He couldn’t trust his coach to be objective, nor his own fiancé, nor his fans. Not even the judges. He alone saw the truth about himself - he, and men like Sarychev who weren’t swayed by his charms. How could he improve if no one could be fair? How could he improve when people only tolerated him out of pity and respect for the champion he once was?

Victor felt alone and misunderstood, bound by a circle of misery. He patted Yuuri’s hand briefly, gave a perfunctory hug to Yakov and skated away.

 

Victor fell on his first quad, and the audience reacted with gasps and shouts – they couldn’t remember the last time Victor Nikiforov fell on a jump. Victor’s eyes burned with the shock and shame of it – but the storm of emotions in his heart made him rally and put in a passionate and emotional performance. He over-rotated another jump at one point and near the end managed to save another in much the same manner as during his short program. He hit his final pose, and barely held it for two seconds, before he collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily, tears pouring down his cheeks. Flowers and gifts were thrown to him from the stands, but he ignored them all as he made his way to the rink side, where Yakov was waiting, with an inscrutable stare.

“I know. I was all over the place,” Victor said immediately.

“It wasn’t your best performance”, Yakov admitted. “But you did well enough for a program you’ve only started practicing last month.”

Yuuri joined them in the kiss and cry, as they waited anxiously for the scores.

“There’s plenty of time for you to refine this program, Vitya”, Yakov continued, gruffly.

“I’m getting worse”, Victor murmured.

“Technically you were better at the Nationals”, Yakov conceded, “but I only see a mental setback. I don’t know what’s happened to make you so insecure, but we’re gonna work on it. That’s what we’ll focus on before the Worlds.”

The scores appeared, and Victor stared in disbelief, as he realized they were high enough for him to place first, despite his mistakes.

Yakov patted his knee, pleased, and Yuuri hugged him, happily.

“See, Victor? Well done!”

Victor just sat there, frozen.

“I didn’t deserve the first spot,” he said, dully.

“Eh?” Yuuri reacted.

Yakov rolled his eyes.

 

The lights were soon dimmed in preparation for the medal ceremony. Victor took the ice again with a heavy heart. He waved at the crowd, climbed the podium, smiled that plastic, fake smile. Sarychev, who had placed second, shook his hand as if he meant to crush his fingers, with an equally fake, blinding smile. Chris, who had placed 3rd, pulled him into a hug. Victor wanted to scream. Was he the only sane person there? He didn’t deserve this fucking medal, why did everyone pretend that he did?

When it was over, Victor stepped off the ice with the unwelcome weight around his neck.

“So, aren’t you gonna kiss it, since it’s gold?” Yuuri asked him, blushing at his own daring.

Victor smiled sadly.

“I can’t take any joy from it, if it’s won like this. I didn’t deserve the gold medal”, he repeated. “Not with those mistakes.”

“Well, the others made mistakes, too. In any case, they couldn’t match your score.”

“No, Yuuri. I can’t figure out how I managed to win this one. Realistically, I shouldn’t have.”

“You had a big lead coming in from the short program. And even if you missed a jump, it didn’t matter. The program, the way you skated it, still captured everyone’s hearts. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You were so beautiful.”

It was, unknowingly to Yuuri, the wrong thing to say.


	4. Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a pretty graphic rape scene in this chapter, fyi. Don't say I didn't warn you.  
> Also the switching of the tenses between past and present during that scene is done on purpose.

 

Red

 

Wrapped in a cloud of dull despair, Victor didn’t reply anything, just left Yuuri behind and went off, not even trying to hide his annoyance.

“Ah Victor – um” – Yuuri said, but didn’t follow him. He was still shy to impose on him, on his space, whenever Victor made it seem like he didn’t want Yuuri close. Even though Victor would have wanted for Yuuri to go after him and reassure him, ask what was wrong, maybe let him cry on his shoulder. Even as he acted aloof, Victor wanted nothing more than that. But Yuuri couldn’t have known. And so he let Victor go.

Victor picked up the bag with his clothes and gear from the locker room and didn’t linger there a moment longer. All his unpleasant encounters with Sarychev had happened in the locker room and he really didn’t want to risk another, especially then. He felt equal parts guilty and mad, seconds from crying.

He went into the quiet bathroom, kicked his bag on the floor and stared at himself in the mirror. His face looked tense, unhappy. Not the face of a champion who had won gold yet again. He tore off his medal and stowed it inside his bag, without the usual care. Then he turned on the cold water tap and splashed some water on his face. He was too busy contemplating his misery, and didn’t hear the door open and close.

“I didn’t think there was anyone else around. Hello there, once and future champion”, Victor heard Sarychev’s voice behind him suddenly, and he jumped.

“Well. The only skater who fell was the one who got the gold. That’s nice and fair”, Sarychev continued caustically. He looked Victor up and down with a leer. “I like your costume, though. Really plays to your strengths – well, your remaining ones.”

Victor reacted with swift anger; he made a fist and lunged at Sarychev, aiming a punch towards his face – however, he wasn’t fast enough. Sarychev deflected, then grabbed the offending arm and twisted it unnaturally, until Victor cried out.

“I’m gonna break it”, Sarychev snarled.

“Stop, please”, Victor begged, trying to dislodge the grip with his left arm, to kick at his feet with his own, anything. A second of hesitance and his free hand shot up, heading for Sarychev’s face.

He was going to claw Sarychev’s eyes out, this had officially become no joking matter.

Sarychev saw his move coming again. He pushed Victor, using his trapped arm as leverage, and bent him over the sink. Victor’s head hanged upside down, and his right arm was now pressed behind him, at the small of his back. Sarychev held his wrist there, then grabbed at Victor's other arm, pinning it in the same spot, heavily pressing on both wrists. Victor couldn't move, his breathing became labored with fear, stunned by the sudden violence. At least his arm was not in immediate danger of being broken anymore.

Victor tried to kick back with his legs. He didn't like the position he had been forced into, bent over the sink. He liked it even less when Sarychev ignored his kicking and kicked at Victor’s legs himself, with merciless precision, to make them stand apart, positioning himself between them. He was now pressed against Victor and the proximity was intimate and humiliating. It made Victor twitch and shudder with distaste.

“You’ve proven your point”, Victor said, trying to sound cold but his voice is unsteady. “Leave me alone now.”

Sarychev didn't answer. He tightened his monstrously strong grip on Victor’s wrists and pressed closer against his back. Victor could feel him growing hard against his ass, grinding pointedly against the thin material of Victor's costume.

No, Victor thought, no. He said he wouldn’t. There are limits to even what he would do. He can’t afford to do this. Someone might enter the bathroom –

“I’ll scream”, Victor said out loud.

Sarychev grunted like the beginning of a laugh and there was a rustle of cloth. Something, a cloth made of cotton, and he hoped, clean, was being forced into Victor’s mouth, obstructing his speech and most of his breathing. He tried to form words or sounds at least, but his tongue was pressed down by the weight of the cloth and his lips were obscenely spread apart over the material, he couldn't close them – the only sounds he could make were weak whines from the back of his throat.

“I think everyone’s left by now, but let’s not take any chances, shall we?”

Victor started to panic in earnest – he began thrashing wildly in Sarychev’s grip, breathing erratically through his nose. Sarychev held him fast with both hands.

“You’re making me hard, squirming like that”, Sarychev panted, bending over to mouth at the back of Victor’s neck, as he humped against him pointedly. “I think I told you didn’t I – if you try to hurt me, all bets are off? Do you wanna get fucked, baby doll? Doesn’t that Japanese boyfriend of yours give it to you well enough? Yeah, you can count on me to give it to you better.”

Victor made a muffled noise of terror.

He kicked his legs as hard and as far as he could from the uncomfortable position, but it was pointless. Sarychev was a heavy weight, unmovable, pressing him down, spreading his legs apart.

“I’ve been thinking about you all night, you know. About our brief _encounter_ yesterday”, Sarychev imparted, on a confidential tone. “I regretted that it was so... brief. And now here’s my chance to amend that _and_ get some compensation for losing so unfairly to you. Fate, huh?”

He was confident enough to hold Victor down with just one hand now, gripping both his wrists in a vice grip, easily subduing him, despite the fact that Victor thrashed wildly beneath him, trying to break free. Sarychev’s other hand reached out to push the cloth even further into Victor’s mouth, making sure he was well gagged, before he groped for the zipper of Victor’s one-piece costume and pulled it down in an abrupt move. Victor felt the weight on him lift slightly so Sarychev could pull the costume off his arms. He tried to aim a punch, but received a sharp backhand which made him fall back against the sink. Sarychev audibly sucked in a breath as the material fell fluidly around Victor’s body, baring him entirely.

“Wow”, Sarychev drawled, thick arousal coating his words. “Not wearing anything underneath, are you? Such a slut. You really want this. Yeah, you’re gonna get it, don’t worry.” He used his fingers to push Victor’s ass cheeks apart, exposing him.

Victor’s hiss of anger and shock ended on a low wail as he felt cold fingers grope at his hole.

Sarychev pulled back a little to stare.

“What a perfect pink hole”, he commented. “I’m so turned on right now. Are you naturally this hairless or do you shave? Hmm let’s see.” He nudged Victor enough to half-turn. “So the carpet does match the drapes. Aren’t you a special doll. Hm, you’re not hard at all, are you?” he remarked, poking Victor’s soft cock, unconcernedly. “Oh well, never mind. I can fuck you like this just fine. I do wish I could turn you around so I could see you cry. Watch your pretty face as I ram your ass.”

Saychev licked hungrily at his face, laughing when Victor cringed. Victor hears him spit on his hand and then those cold fingers are back, pushing wetness inside his hole. Victor’s stomach rebels – he's going to be sick. He wonders if Sarychev would stop if he were to throw up, or if he would just keep going. It wouldn't matter anyway, because he's gagged, so he tries to force the bile back down. It's difficult, considering he was bent over at the waist, head lolling down. Sarychev starts to thrust thick fingers inside of him, grunting, promising that he's gonna fuck him so hard. Victor bites hard against the rag in his mouth, tries to scream, tries to writhe away. There isn't nearly enough spit to ease the way for the invading fingers and it hurts as he's stretched fast and rough, with no regard for his comfort.

“Please stop”, Victor tries to shout, but no words came out, only a muffled plea which sounds pathetic to his own ears.

“You’re right”, Sarychev answered. “Enough foreplay.”

The fingers pulled out, but before Victor could feel any relief from the pain, they were replaced with a thick, throbbing cock. Victor’s eyes went wide with pain and shock, as he renewed his desperate struggles - but  Sarychev only pushed relentlessly forward, regardless of the resistance it met from the unprepared body.

Breathing harshly through his nose, gulping back tears, Victor tried again to scream, doubled his efforts to escape, but his struggles turned to helpless tremors when he realized he was held too tightly – Sarychev was too strong for him, holding Victor down easily. _Stronger than me, better than me -_  Victor's thoughts chanted at him. His breathing hitched on a sob and his vision blurred as Sarychev wasted no time in spearing him to the hilt on his cock, grunting appreciatively.

_No. This can’t be happening._

Sarychev pulls back, a slow painful drag, then snaps his hips powerfully forward, slamming his cock back in, the other hand tightening in a vice-like grip over Victor’s wrists.

“Gonna take you for a wild ride, doll”, he hisses, and starts fucking him roughly.

Victor can’t take this so he goes into shock. He stares at his own silver strands which almost reach the floor, and is fascinated by the way they shiver and curl as Victor’s body is rhythmically pushed forward and back. The rhythm is jarred as Sarychev’s hand pulls him up by the hair abruptly, so he can lick and bite at his shoulders and neck, all the way to the collarbone and back again. He pants filthy words into Victor’s ear:

“This gorgeous ass of yours is so tight. You don’t get it enough from your boyfriend, do you? If I was in his place, I’d wreck you every morning and night, and on Saturdays after lunch. I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Just let me know, maybe we can work a deal.”

The offending hand slips down to fondle his chest and rub against his nipples.

“Mm. Your skin is so soft, like a woman’s. So fucking pretty.”

He twists Victor’s head around, and tries to meet his eyes, which he keeps stubbornly closed, and licks at his jaw and neck haphazardly, smearing them with saliva.

Afterwards it’s a blur as Sarychev pounds into him like Victor is indeed a doll, harsh grunts muffled along with slobbering kisses in Victor’s neck, along with growling insults and praises, possessive sweaty hands now pressed all over Victor’s body, pinching and squeezing roughly. Victor’s hands have long since been released but they hang at his sides uselessly, numb, unable to fight the relentless crushing weight, the searing pain.

Victor lay limp, eyes wide with pain and shock, trembling with horror and disgust, as the assault continued. The tongue lapping at his face and neck, the forced intimacy of it, were almost harder to bear than the pain ripping through him while Sarychev raped him violently.

Sarychev finally finished deep inside him and Victor shuddered with disgust at the feeling of being marked in this way.

“Fuck. Fuck that was so good.”

The man rests heavily on top of Victor, moaning as he comes down from his high of pleasure, then sits up with a grunt. Victor hisses at the burning pain as Sarychev pulls out of him abruptly. It takes him a while to register that he can move, but his body can’t seem to cooperate. He feels foreign to his own self, and the feeling of unreality frightens him more than anything.

Sarychev grunts again and grabs Victor, lifting him off the sink, and propping him against the wall. He takes the impromptu gag out of Victor’s mouth, and Victor coughs, taking deep shaky breaths, but otherwise remains still. With rough, fast movements, Sarychev begins to arrange Victor’s clothing, zipping the costume back up, trying to smooth the rumpled cloth to a semblance of decency. Victor trembles with delayed shock, and flinches at the unwelcome touches. He feels wet and sticky between his legs. He wants to be sick.

Obviously none of this was happening, Victor’s mind sang back at him. This sort of stuff couldn’t just _happen_ to him. Then he randomly found himself wondering: What will tomorrow look like? Try as he may, he couldn’t imagine. Time seemed fluid, distorted.

“You’re fine. Don’t make a big deal out of this. You’re fine”, Sarychev tells him, like he’s trying to persuade himself. He looks at Victor strangely, seemingly a bit afraid by something he can see in his face, in his eyes.

“You brought this upon yourself. You provoked me”, Sarychev presses on. “I never meant to let it go so far.”

Sarychev seems to be expecting an answer and Victor is himself momentarily curious to see if anyone will reply. It’s like watching a movie play out, one he’s not overly invested in. He imagines he’s in bed with the flu and dimly changing channels, focusing on a scene here, another there, through the haze of his illness. The one he’s just landed on seems boring – no one seems to answer Sarychev, and the silence stretches on.

A sudden slap rings out in the quiet of the bathroom, and Victor gasps as his face stings. It brings him cruelly closer to reality and he’s conscious of the pain in his body, of the nightmare that is his own to experience, and not another’s. He sucks in a breath, and a low whine escapes his throat, the sound strange even to his own ears.

“Stop that”, Sarychev growls. “Put yourself together. Listen to me!” He leans close and pants, hot and heavy in Victor’s face: “If you tell anyone, anyone at all about this, I’ll make sure to destroy you. Even if I’m out of the picture. I’ll just casually slip your name and whereabouts to a few of my friends, and believe me when I tell you, they’re not as gentle as me. They’ll break your legs when they’re done with you, break your spine, you’ll never skate again.”

Victor can't envision walking at the moment, let alone skating. He remains silent.

“Do you hear me?” Sarychev hisses, enraged. “Do you understand what I’m saying? Goddamn you, at least nod or something!”

He raises his hand as if to slap him again, and Victor flinches. He lowers his eyes and nods briefly, while at the same time angry at his own submissive gesture. Then he remembers: It’s not him, this didn’t happen to him, he’s just watching this scene play out. Sarychev sighs in relief. He turns towards the mirror, straightens his own shirt, smooths down his pants, mumbling quietly to himself “provoked me”, as he meets his own eyes in the mirror.

He makes to leave and stops to look Victor over once more, as if judging whether he should trust him, as if wondering whether anyone will be able to read on him what had happened without Victor even telling them. He cringes momentarily, but then repeats:

“You’re fine”, and the words sound hollow and offensive to Victor’s ears. He raises his eyes to reply, to argue, on behalf of the poor creature who is obviously _not_ fine, but Sarychev had already left.

Victor stares at the white tiles of the bathroom, for a while. The silence is soothing, and Sarychev’s absence is welcome. He wonders if he could just stay there and not move. He feels like he should be some place, but his head hurts when he tries to remember where. He’ll just sit here for a while. Easier than to think.

Victor doesn’t think he’s been there for more than a few minutes, when the door is abruptly pushed open. He jumps, ready to bolt. It’s Yuuri. He smiles, mechanically, he can’t help smiling when he sees Yuuri, just the sight of him is enough to give him joy. Yuuri’s features are twisted in an expression of bewilderment and anxiety – and Victor chuckles, that’s just like Yuuri, always worrying about something or other. Anxious little boy, Victor loves him so much. Yuuri is talking to him right now, and Victor tries his best to listen.

“- looked everywhere for you! – called you a million times!”

That’s right, Victor’s phone was in his bag along with his street clothes. He looked down – he was still wearing his skating costume. He shuddered briefly and closed his eyes tightly, only to open them again, when he heard Yuuri begin to cry in earnest:

“I was so scared, no one knew where you were! For hours I’ve tried to call you, then I called Yakov, he told me last time he saw you, you were still here so I – “

“Silly Yuuri”, Victor interrupted. “It’s been only minutes since the medal ceremony finished.”

“Victor, it’s almost 2 am”, Yuuri said, in a low, careful voice.

There was a pause, in which Victor rolled his eyes.

“Can’t be.”

“Victor, did you fall? Did you hit your head? Are you hurt? What happened?”

Victor shook Yuuri’s hands off of him, and shuddered again. He loved Yuuri but Yuuri could be so bothersome sometimes.

“Uhh, _you_ ’ _re_ making _my head_ hurt right now. No. Just –“, he pushed Yuuri’s hands carefully off of him again when they returned.

Yuuri stared at him bewildered, eyes wide with tears, threatening to gush over. He swallowed and forced himself to speak, calmly:

“Alright, Victor. If you don’t want to tell me....it’s your choice. I was hoping you’d trust me but... I won’t push. I was just worried.”

“You worry all the time, Yuuri”, Victor said, in a hollow sort of voice.

“Uh, heh yeah. That I do.”

There was silence for a few seconds, while Yuuri watched Victor with confusion, and Victor stared at the wall unconcernedly.

“Are you ready to come home?” Yuuri finally asked, softly.

Home. Makkachin. Yuuri. A warm bed. A shower. Home. Yes. Maybe. No. Why did he have to strain to make decisions like that when sitting here was so effortless and if he stayed still for a long time, he could imagine he didn’t exist. It was a wonderful feeling, one he was surprised he hadn’t experienced until now. It was so wonderful, he decided to share that with Yuuri, and he did, excitedly.

Yuuri stared at him wide-eyed as Victor imparted that recent discovery of his. Victor always found it funny when Yuuri made those huge eyes at him. He was so easily impressed. Victor loved to impress him.

“Victor, no....”, Yuuri said, with chagrin. “That is not a wonderful feeling at all. Oh, what should I do, how can I help you?”

Now Yuuri’s eyes were so wide, it was extremely comical, so Victor laughed out loud, then shuddered again, unconsciously.

“Victor, you’re freezing. You keep shivering. Can’t you feel how cold you are? How long have you been sitting here on the bathroom floor?” Yuuri almost shouted, voice high with nerves.

Then he rubbed at his eyes furiously, as he bit back a sob. “Dear god, please don’t let me have a panic attack right now, I have to think”, he mumbled.

Victor watched him curiously. Yuuri’s reactions were always fascinating. He loved how emotional Yuuri always was about things.

Yuuri took off his jacket and laid it over Victor’s shoulders, arranging it over his frame as best he could, then he fished out his phone from his pocket.

“Are we playing a game, Yuuri?”, Victor asked.

Yuuri ignored him and spoke haltingly into the phone:

“Please – do you speak English? I don’t speak Russian. Oh, thank God. I need an ambulance at number 16, Povarskaya Street... No, it’s not me who’s hurt, it’s my fiance. I think he’s in shock. He does speak Russian but he’s not making any sense right now. Thank you, yes. I’ll wait.”

“I like this coat, it smells of you”, Victor said, and snuggled into it.

Yuuri ended the call, and sank down onto the floor, next to Victor.

“Good. Keep it.”

“Is that why you gave me this coat, Yuuri, so I’d think of you?” Victor went on. “You didn’t like it when I said that it makes me happy to think of nothing.” He sighed.

Yuuri was watching him out of the corner of his eye, with mounting anxiety.

“But you don’t understand, Yuuri. It’s painful to think about things and it’s such a relief to not have to think at all. You don’t want me to be in pain, do you?”

“What things are too painful to think about, Victor?” Yuuri whispered, softly. “Please, you can tell me. I want to share your pain.”

But Victor remained stubbornly silent, as if he couldn’t hear him, and retreated into himself.

Yuuri’s eyes filled again with tears.

 

~

“I’ve been calling him.... he didn’t answer his phone and.... found him here just sitting on the floor”, Yuuri’s voice broke through Victor’s mind. He couldn’t help but focus on Yuuri’s voice. He loved Yuuri’s voice, although he disliked its tearful desperate quality in that moment. “He’s cold but he doesn’t seem aware of it”, Yuuri continued, more and more agitated. “I asked him if he’s hurt, but he didn’t want to answer. He’s been speaking ... nonsense. I can’t get through to him. I can’t even get him to move. Please you have to check him out. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

The misery in Yuuri’s voice was crashing into Victor’s mind with heavy persistence, not allowing him blissful respite. He wanted to tell Yuuri to stop worrying, that it was silly to worry like this over everything. Especially over him.

_Oh._

They weren’t alone.

There were other people here now – Victor sighed in annoyance. They looked at him and seemed to be talking to him – Victor filtered them out and tried to look past them. How bothersome. Yuuri was one thing, but other people disturbing his peace... this was getting harder to tolerate.

Victor’s annoyance turned to full-blown panic, when one of those people reached out a hand and touched his arm.

He slapped the hand away and retreated further into the wall, with an angry growl.

“Victor!” Yuuri shouted, bewildered. “Please let them check you out.”

Why was Yuuri angry _at him?_

He kicked with his legs at the white-robed figure who tried to approach him again.

Then he was surrounded on all sides and hands were on him. Victor screamed shrilly, revolted.

“Why do you – What do you want?! Let go of me, don’t touch me! It hurts! No, I don’t want to come with you! Go away!”

“Hold him down. Sedative, now.”

Victor started crying, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Yuuri, tell them! Tell them to let me go! This is horrible, it’s too horrible – I can’t-“

“Shhh. Shh, love, it’s alright. I’m here. Nobody wants to hurt you. We want to help you. Please trust me.”

There was a pinch, and then a feeling of pleasant numbness washed over him. Yuuri was running fingers through his hair softly and it felt really good.

“Hmmmm”, he hummed. He felt exhausted and boneless.

“That’s it”, Yuuri whispered. “It’s alright, Victor. I’m here. Just relax.”

“Let’s get him on that stretcher."

They wheeled him outside, while Yuuri, face twisted in concern, grabbed Victor’s bag off the floor and followed them at a run.

 

~

 “Skin is pale and clammy, cold to touch.”

Yuuri, lost in thoughts in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, startled as a voice in Russian spoke up.

He blinked. Victor was motionless on the stretcher and two EMTs were checking his vitals.

“Would help if we could get his bloody costume out of the way to get a good checkup.”

“They can do that at the hospital. The vitals are gonna be screwed anyway since we had to sedate him.”

“Let’s at least get a pulse and blood pressure reading.”

Yuuri, who understood a word here and there, piped up anxiously:

“Does he have a concussion? What’s wrong with him?”

One of the EMTs was now checking Victor’s pupils, and answered in heavily accented English:

“It’s too early to tell. It would help if he was awake to answer some questions and if we didn’t have to sedate him.”

“Pulse is 60”, the other EMT said in Russian, while the first nodded:

“Pupils are normal.”

“Pulse wasn’t 60 before we sedated him, I’ll warrant. Right about the time he kicked me in the shins.”

“Probably took something”, the second one agreed.

“Missing time, irritability, yeah I think so too. Psych ward, do you think?”

Yuuri looked from one to the other, frowning.

“I do know some Russian, you know”, he finally broke in. “And my fiance didn’t take any drugs. I’m sure of it. He’s an athlete, he wouldn't.”

There was a small silence, then the first EMT answered, somewhere between dismissive and conciliatory:

“They’ll do all the blood tests at the hospital.”

“I’d also appreciate if you talked in English. I need to know all this about Victor.”

“Sure thing, mate”, the second EMT answered.

It sounded to Yuuri like he was trying to appease a particularly reluctant child; he frowned still further, tight-lipped, but didn’t say anything more.

The first EMT was looming hesitantly over Victor with a stethoscope and a pair of scissors. Eventually, he looked up at Yuuri.

“Um – I’d like to check his blood pressure, is it okay if I -?”

It took Yuuri a while to understand what the EMT was getting at, and then-

“Oh. It opens at the back. Please don’t cut it, he’d be furious. He loves this costume.”

Yuuri smiled wanly, but then immediately his face darkened again.

“Why hasn’t he changed from this costume, it’s been hours since the medal ceremony ended?” he spoke, in a low voice, as if to himself.

“Can you help us here, mate?”

“Oh! Of course!”

With the help of the two EMTs, Yuuri lifted Victor in a sitting position, his fingers feeling around at the back where he knew the zipper was. He opened it, and the costume fell around Victor’s middle.

Yuuri stared.

“Um, ice skating is a tough sport, innit?” the first EMTs said, sympathetically, as he pressed his stethoscope to Victor's naked back, in an obvious attempt to get back into Yuuri’s good books.

Yuuri kept staring.

“Lots of falls, lots of bruises. You were right, he might’ve taken a bad fall.”

Yuuri shook his head from side to side emphatically, still staring at Victor’s back, as if hypnotized.

“These bruises weren’t ther- no – he.... _he never fell_ ”, he whispered slowly.

The other EMT was also staring, but not in the same direction as Yuuri.

“There’s blood”, he addressed his colleague in Russian.

“What, where? How come we didn’t notice?”

“When you lifted him just now I saw – look, a trail of blood on the stretcher.”

“Huh, but that – Okay, we have to get him out of this stupid costume entirely, see where he’s hurt.”

He held Victor up, while his colleague pushed the costume all the way down and off Victor’s arms and legs, throwing it carelessly aside.

Yuuri had blanked out momentarily at the sight of the ugly bruise on Victor’s lower back and what he dimly suspected were bite marks on his neck and shoulders, but now he was snapped back to reality.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” he cried in outrage, but the scream died out on his lips, once he looked down at Victor’s exposed body.

The EMTs stared in similar shock.

“Ни хуя́ себе́”, one of them said, and Yuuri knew exactly what that meant.

There were bruise marks like shackles on Victor’s wrists. 

His thighs were bruised as well, and smeared with pink viscous blood. The smell of sex hit Yuuri’s bewildered senses and with a jolt, he realized where the pink color came from. A wave of nausea hit him and he turned abruptly, hand pressed to his mouth.

“Guess we found out what’s wrong”, the second EMT said, in Russian again, but Yuuri found no words to complain or care, since he was trembling with delayed shock. “Are we there yet, Kosti?” he shouted at the driver, making Yuuri jump.

“Near enough”, the driver shouted back.

“Good. Call it in, tell them to prepare for a rape kit. Let’s cover him with something, damnit, I can’t stand to look at him.”

They dug out a blanket and bundled Victor in it, laying him back on the stretcher. They seemed to have forgotten all about his blood pressure.

“Fucking hell”, the first EMT swore again.

“Hey, did you say you’re his fiance?” the second EMT said, looking at Yuuri suspiciously.

“I didn’t do this to him”, Yuuri answered automatically.

“Whatever. Who knows what you weirdos get up to.”

Yuuri wanted to shout and cry, but he couldn’t get his teeth to stop chattering.

“Whatever”, he repeated. “Not our problem anymore.”

The doors opened, and they pulled the stretcher out. Yuuri followed them, in a daze.


	5. Aquamarine

 

Aquamarine

 

The lights of the ER waiting room were unexpectedly bright. Tired faces looked up curiously when they entered. At any other time, Yuuri would’ve been embarrassed, now he felt remote from anything around him that wasn’t Victor’s motionless battered body on the stretcher and the horrible, incredible meaning of _this_ happening in the here and now.

The EMT passed on the patient chart and information; the receptionist nodded, asked Yuuri for his name, phone number and address, and motioned for him to take a seat.

Yuuri retreated closer to the wall, but remained standing, hand clutching the rail of Victor’s stretcher, blinking owlishly behind his glasses in the bright light. He jumped a mile when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned - it was the first EMT, eyeing him with something like pity.

“Hey, hey. You okay, mate? I’m sorry about my colleague, he’s a bit, well, you know. He’s not a bad guy though.”

“Sure”, Yuuri agreed. He didn’t care, he couldn’t find it in him to give a single fig. He turned to stare at Victor’s still face on the stretcher while they waited for their turn.

“You’ll get a room soon, this is a level 2,” the EMT assured him. “You forgot your bag – here.” Yuuri took it silently. “And - here, you’ll need this.” He thrust a bundle into Yuuri’s hands. Victor’s costume, Yuuri registered belatedly. “It’s evidence now. He was wearing it when he – Probably won’t be a while before he gets it back. I’m sorry.”

Yuuri finally burst into tears, wild angry tears. He pushed a fist into his mouth to stop from shouting out his misery. The EMT squeezed his shoulder awkwardly, then hurried back outside to his ambulance.

The people in the waiting room were openly staring now. Yuuri forced himself to bite back his tears and sobs, and looked resolutely down at Victor’s face, deceptively serene in his sedative-induced sleep. He could feel inquisitive eyes on the both of them and wondered briefly how many of the people in the ER that night knew that this was Russia’s national hero, living legend Victor Nikiforov. He was suddenly dizzy at the thought and grateful that the very late hour meant the ER waiting room was not very crowded. _These people are all here with trouble of their own_ – the reasonable side of Yuuri’s mind argued, _they’re not really interested in us, they’re just looking for a distraction from their own problems, that’s why they’re staring._ Still, he felt the strong urge to shield Victor from their prying eyes. In an effort to quell this sudden urge, Yuuri busied himself with arranging the blanket tighter around Victor’s frame, tears filling his eyes again as the memory of what lay beneath came back to him.

The friendly EMT was right – they did not have long to wait. A male nurse came, smiled at Yuuri, and started pushing Victor’s stretcher through the sliding doors, motioning for Yuuri to follow. He did, and was led to a small side room, not far from the main ER. An old bespectacled man looked up from his laptop when they entered.

The nurse transferred Victor from his stretcher to the examination table, blanket and all.

“Thank you, Piotr”, the old man said.

“Do you need help?” the nurse asked.

“Not yet, thank you.”

The nurse left. Yuuri fidgeted from one leg to another, nervously, as the old man rose from his chair and remarked:

“Our friends exaggerated a little with the sedative, eh? I want my patients relaxed, not unconscious.”

He had a funny accent, not Russian, and Yuuri frowned.

“I hope you will be able to understand my English. I’m Polish by birth. Jacek Stolski, good to meet you. Although, commiserations on the circumstances.”

He extended a hand and Yuuri reached and shook it, automatically.

The formal yet kind manner of the old man was like a balm on Yuuri’s tormented soul.

“Y – Your English is perfect, thank you. Better than mine.”

“Ah, a polite young man”, Stolski smiled up at Yuuri as he unsealed a syringe and filled it with a shot of a clear liquid.

“You will forgive me for not having a nurse to help here, but I assume the fewer people the better for ...”, he trailed off delicately. It took Yuuri a couple of seconds to catch on.

“Oh!” he fumbled, “oh, I’m so sorry. His name is Victor. He’s my fiance. My name is Yuuri.”

“No apology necessary, Yuuri.”

“Is that gonna wake him up?” Yuuri asked, pointing to the syringe.

“It should, yes.”

“Wait a second.”

The doctor paused.

“He was really mad earlier”, Yuuri spoke, fast. “I’ve never seen him like this. Flipped off as soon as the EMTs tried to touch him, wouldn’t listen to a word they said. That’s why they had to sedate him. It was – bad. It would be better for him – and for you, if you could examine him while he’s unconscious. Then you can wake him up.”

“It is ethically vital that I obtain his consent before I examine him,” Stolski pointed out.

“He’ll never give it. And you _need_ to check him out, see how h- hurt he is, take a – a rape kit, right?”

“So you are suggesting to me to proceed without his consent?” Stolski asked, quietly.

The weight of those words registered immediately to Yuuri who paled horribly and swayed on his feet.

Stolski caught his arm with his syringe-free hand.

“Sit down, young man”, he directed. “If you crack your skull open, I’m afraid I’m not qualified to assist you with that particular injury.”

Yuuri collapsed in a chair.

“I can’t, I _can’t_....deal with this. It’s all so – it’s too much. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’re right, of course you’re right. I shouldn’t have –“

Stolski set the syringe down and walked off to a side room, from where he returned in only a few seconds, holding a plastic glass. He handed it to Yuuri, who took it automatically.

“Have some water, Yuuri, there you go. Breathe with me, boy. Easy. I have two children, you know. Well, I say children – they’re big men now. Soon they’ll be leaving home. One of them’s quiet and polite, like you, he’d apologize to his own mother for being born if anyone suggested it. The other one dyes his hair pink and sings angry songs against the establishment. What do you think about that, heh? I tell Sofia, I tell her, we raised them both right, did we not? So what went wrong? I’m just joking, I love Jacob and Evgeny both the same. Maybe Zhenya a little more, ehehe. I have my whims. But you remind me a little of Jacob, you do. You’re a good boy, Yuuri. Precious good boy you are. Drink up. When’s the last time you had a good plain glass of water, eh? People underestimate how good a few sips of cold water can be for the nerves. Almost as good as a hot cup of tea, if you can’t get it.”

Yuuri’s breathing gradually slowed, as the old man rambled on. He clutched the glass in his hand and took the last sip, then handed it back to the old man gratefully, with a small embarrassed smile:

“Thank you. I – I’m sorry, there are patients outside and I’m wasting your time –“

“There you go, apologizing again”, Stolski grinned.

Yuuri blushed.

“Don’t worry. I’m not the only doctor on call tonight. Besides, I don’t have the expertise to treat some of the other emergencies out there.”

“But you do have... uh -”, Yuuri hesitated, “the _expertise_ for something like this?”

“They usually leave the patients who are difficult to me”, Stolski answered with disarming honesty. “Which in this case, I assume it applies to the both of you.”

Yuuri smiled painfully. No beating about the bush there. For some reason, however, he felt better. Stolski did have a soothing and paternal manner which made Yuuri feel safe and at ease. He could only hope it would be the same for Victor, but he couldn’t help but expect the worst when he remembered Victor’s reaction to the EMTs.

“Now, let me explain to you how I’m going to proceed”, Stolski said, calmly holding Yuuri’s gaze.

“I am going to wake up your fiance. I am going to explain to him where he is and how he got here and ask his consent for examining and treating his injuries. I will prescribe symptomatic medicine in accordance to his subjective levels of physical discomfort. I will then ask his consent to take a rape kit. You may at all times be as close to him as he wants you to be, and comfort him in any way you can think of. However, you must know that the rape kit, if he agrees to it, is a long and invasive procedure. He may ask you to step outside if he feels it’s too humiliating and you will have to respect that.”

“Of course, of course I will - but what if he doesn’t agree, and then the guy who did this to him just walks free? Oh, Victor’s never gonna agree in a million years”, Yuuri wrung his hands in despair. “You see, Victor is.... he’s ...um, Victor Nikiforov-“

“I know who he is”, Stolski interrupted him calmly. “It hardly needs to be said that it doesn’t matter now.”

“No... no, of course not, but – if word were to get out, it would –“, Yuuri sighed shakily, “I don’t think Victor would like that”, he ended lamely.

“Let’s ask him, then”, Stolski said and went to pick up the syringe.

 

Victor’s eyes blinked slowly open.

I’ve missed you, Yuuri thought. God, I’ve missed you so much.

“I’m here”, he said out loud. “Victor, I’m right here. It’s okay.”

“Yuuriii~”, Victor said automatically, much like his usual self, and Yuuri squeezed his hand tightly. “Ughhh”, he continued as his fuzzy brain started to clear and suddenly his eyes shot wide open. “What?” he shouted in Russian. "What is this?"

“Mr. Nikiforov,” Stolski answered, also in Russian, enunciating the words slowly and clearly, “you are in a hospital. Can we talk in English so your fiance can understand as well? Da? OK. Do you remember what happened?”

Victor’s wide eyes focused on the doctor who smiled at him gently, encouragingly.

“They grabbed me!” he shouted earnestly.

“They?”

“Yes!” He turned his eyes on Yuuri. “You were there, and you didn’t help!” Yuuri felt his knees about to give out. “Then I woke up here.”

“Yes, that’s right”, Stolski said patiently, “but before that, do you remember getting hurt before that?”

“Oh!” Victor screamed, through clenched teeth, features twisting furiously. He jerked upright on the examination table, and waved his hands nervously as he spit out: “Why would I want to remember anything like that? Is everyone going to torture me with this now?” The blanket had slid down around Victor, exposing his bruised body. “It didn’t happen to me! It wasn’t me! I was just there, and I couldn’t stop it! I know it doesn’t make sense but you have to believe it. I’m sorry for the poor creature but I have nothing to do with it. Do you know who I am?? Pfft. This is my fiance. He’ll tell you.” His voice dropped abruptly. “I want to go home. I’m tired.”

To his credit, Stolski’s expression remained mild throughout the entire outburst. Yuuri was shaking, not daring to utter a word.

“Suppose we wanted to take a look at this poor creature, see if _he_ ’s ok?” Stolski asked, evenly. “We want to make sure he’s not hurting and that his injuries don’t go untreated. Could we do that?”

Victor huffed.

“Well, I mean I understand. You have to take care of such weak, helpless creatures. It’s what you people do.”

“Indeed”, Stolski nodded.

“And I do feel sorry for him. You mustn’t think I’m heartless. But why should I be burdened with this? Huh? Why? Does this seem fair to you?”

“No. It doesn’t seem fair at all.”

“So you can look at him of course, you can treat him. Give him something for the pain. I’m sure he’s in pain. He said ‘you’re okay’, before he left, but isn’t that silly? Because of course he wouldn’t be!”

“Yes, he definitely wouldn’t”, Stolski nodded sadly. “I’m so sorry for him, Victor.”

“I’m sorry, too”, Victor sniffed.

Yuuri looked from one to the other, confused and distresed.

“And afterwards I wonder if I can take a rape kit?”

Victor shuddered, twisting his head from side to side in abrupt motions.

“What the fuck is that, what _even_ the fuck is that??”

“It’s a .... process by which we gather evidence – physical evidence from yo – from his body, so we can convict the-“

“NO!” Victor shouted. "No, no NO! Shut up, shut UP! I told you, I don’t want to be involved! Not further! No! Nothing further! I took pity on _him_ , why can’t you take some pity on _me_?!”

Tears started pouring on Victor’s face and Yuuri unexpectedly burst into tears of his own. Without thinking, he threw his arms around Victor, hugging him close, with no regard for anything else, and sobbed audibly when he felt Victor’s arms encircle his back. Stolski remained quiet behind them. Finally, embarassment made Yuuri pull back, but kept Victor’s hand in his.

“No one in this room will do anything you don’t want, Victor”, Stolski said, solemnly. “Are you still allowing the examination?”

Victor nodded briefly. His tears had dried out, as fast as they had appeared.

Stolski reached for the blanket and pulled it off entirely, and unbelievably to Yuuri, Victor allowed it. He lay back down and Stolski went to work, checking bruises and bite marks, occasionally pressing against one or the other, asking:

“Any pain?”

“No”, Victor would answer – or “Yes”, and turned obediently from one side to the other, when directed.

“These bruises will all fade with time”, Stolksi said. “Cold water should help – packs of ice if necessary.”

Victor, now lying on his stomach, was staring distractedly at the wall, and didn’t react.

“Yes – yes, okay”, Yuuri nodded.

If only everything else could fade with time and cold water.

“I have to check the extent of rectal and perianal injuries”, Stolski announced.

Yuuri fervently wished he could disassociate like Victor and pretend that sentence didn’t concern his fiance – just someone else, poor _poor_ someone else.

He glanced at Viktor who was still gazing at the wall, eyes glazed, and gave no indication of having heard anything.

“I wonder if I could do that”, Stolski said, but Victor still remained quiet.

Stolski tentatively reached out and gently spread Victor’s legs wide apart. Yuuri held his breath, anticipating a sudden strong kick from the Russian, but none was forthcoming. It seems Stolski was anticipating it too, because he released a quiet sigh when he remained unmaimed and Victor’s legs were spread widely on the examination table.

Yuuri looked away. He didn’t want to see this. He knew it was selfish, but he’d allow himself this one selfish thing. He had the urge to bolt out of the room, out of the hospital, and keep on running until he reached a vast expanse of that cold miraculous water. Something like the ocean.

He looked at Victor’s eyes instead, eyes that reflected the ocean on a good day, and as beautiful as they still were, they now looked distant and remote. Victor suddenly gave a high pitched whimper, which seemed to issue from the back of his throat. Yuuri ran his fingers gently up and down Victor's arm, trying to soothe him. Victor didn’t move, nor did his expression change, but that strange whimper persisted, occasionally changing in pitch, until Stolski finally stood up.

“Well, the good news is that I don’t see any evidence of foreign object insertion. There’s no bowel perforation, no sphincter disruption, none of the major injuries we usually fear in such cases.”

“But – the blood, there seems to be a lot of – blood,” Yuuri stammered.

“This is consistent with the tearing of the anal walls caused by the forced penetration, in the absence of lubricant. It is surely painful and I know the blood appears frightening, but these injuries are also best left to heal on their own. I will prescribe some pain medication and some antibiotics to prevent infection.”

“Okay so...what’s the bad news then?”

“The perpetrator definitely did not use a condom, so the blood work will have to include testing for STDs.”

Yuuri’s heart started beating erratically in fear and concern.

Stolski picked up a vial and a fresh syringe from the cupboard.

“I wonder if I may draw some blood”, he said loudly, and Yuuri looked at Victor who did not move a muscle.

Stolski took Victor’s arm and drew the blood without incidents.

“I’m afraid it will be several weeks before you get the results. You left your number and address with our receptionist so we’ll contact you.”

Yuuri nodded tightly. Victor still showed no reaction. Stolksi paused slightly, before addressing Yuuri seriously:

“There’s also the issue of your fiance’s mental state, as I’m sure you’ve realized.”

“What can I do?”

“Very little, aside from what I’m sure you’ve already been doing. Shower him with love and support. Remain by his side.”

“Always”, Yuuri murmured. “I’ll always stay by his side and never leave him.”

“Additionally, enlist the help of a psychologist. The course of treatment I prescribe must include psychiatric evaluation; but I can recommend, if you’d like, a psychotherapist who specializes in cases of trauma related to sexual assault. She is very good, and I’m not just saying this because she’s a good friend.”

“Thank you, that would be great.”

Stolski went to his desk, and took out a contact card from one of his drawers, which he handed to Yuuri, who pocketed it.

“Thank you”, Yuuri repeated, bowing slightly. “You’ve been so kind to us.”

“It’s my job to be kind. Come to think of it, it’s all of our jobs. If humanity itself had one job...”, Stolski continued on a lower tone, as he labelled the vial with Victor’s blood, “I guess it would be that. But, what can you do, some are better at their jobs than others.” He moved towards his table and sat down to write the prescription.

“I’m all done. You can dress, Victor. Thank you very much for allowing this examination.”

Yuuri rummaged through the bag and pulled out Victor’s change of clothes. His eyes fell on the costume which he had dropped on the floor, and shuddered.

“So that means”, he voiced his thoughts aloud, “since Victor didn’t agree to a rape kit, that what happened to him... goes unpunished?”

“Victor can still decide to press charges. It should be done as soon as possible however, to maximize the amount of evidence.”

Yuuri folded the costume carefully, nodding.

“In case you were wondering”, Stolski continued, “my profession binds me to utmost discression. The decision to press charges is entirely Victor’s.”

The way those words were said, it was like he read Yuuri’s mind. There was one thing which made Yuuri feel sane in those moments, one thought he could cling to – justice – no: revenge.


	6. Ghost White

 

Ghost White

 

Dawn was breaking when Yuuri and Victor finally returned to their hotel room.

Makkachin jumped on them, panting with excitement, almost knocking them down. Victor staggered and winced, even as he patted Makkachin’s head with a slight smile.

“Down, Makka”, Yuuri said, sternly.

Makkachin obeyed, his bum hitting the ground, tail still wagging, and Victor laughed, a clear, delighted sound.

“Yuuri! He listens to you so well!”

Yuuri’s heart started beating frantically, as he looked at Victor, a nervous smile playing on his lips. He wasn’t going to delude himself that things would be alright, but he felt so happy seeing Victor’s eyes on him, shining with love and affection, so happy that he hadn’t lost that.

“Yeah, he’s a good boy. I’ll take him for a walk soon, while you rest”, Yuuri said, trying to make his voice sound casual and failing utterly.

Victor was fluffing up Makkachin’s fur, but at Yuuri’s words, he straightened abruptly, with a gasp of pain, and grabbed Yuuri’s hand.

“I’ll come with!”

“Victor, it’s fine, I’ll take care of it. You can rest. I won’t be long anyw-“

“No! Yuuri, I’ll come with!” Victor repeated louder, tightening his hold on Yuuri, eyes widening in distress.

“Alright, alright”, Yuuri hastened to calm him down. “Uh – okay then – you go shower and I’ll make us some tea. We’ll drink the tea, and then we’ll take Makkachin out together. Just around the block once or twice, yeah?”

Victor nodded.

“Alright”, Yuuri repeated, relieved. “Shall I order some food, to go with the tea?”

Victor shook his head. Yuuri couldn’t contemplate eating either.

“Okay. But if you want to take pain pills, you’ll need to eat first, so please tell me when you’re taking any so I can order something.”

Victor squeezed his hand briefly.

“Alright so....” Yuuri hesitated. Victor was still holding his hand.

“Do you want me to help you with the shower?”

Victor shook his head in a definite no.

“Alright then... I’m going to go and make the tea now”, Yuuri hesitated. “Um-“ He looked down at their still interlocked hands. “I sort of need my hand back to do that”, he tried to joke.

Victor let go of Yuuri’s hand abruptly, as if he had forgotten he was holding it. He seemed uncertain about what to do as Yuuri walked off towards the shelf which held their small batch of complimentary teas and an electric tea kettle. It was poor fare compared to what they had at home but it would have to do. Yuuri selected a bag of chamomile tea while watching Victor out of the corner of his eye. Victor had started taking small steps towards the bathroom, but then he stopped, lingered in the doorway for a while, shuddered, then turned away. He caught Yuuri’s eye and stared at him pleadingly.

“What is it, love?” Yuuri said, rushing to Victor’s side again, almost brought to his knees by the look on his fiance’s face. “Please tell me, how can I help?”

“Can you stay right outside the door while I shower?”

“Of course! I’ll bring a change of clothes for you and I’ll be right out here until you finish.”

“Thank you”, Victor mumbled, frowning as if displeased with himself. “Sorry.”

“Please, never apologize for asking for what you need. I’ll be right here.”

Victor gave him a long look, then stepped into the bathroom without closing the door. He undressed slowly, leaving his clothes on the floor. Yuuri stared without meaning to, the angry bruises on Victor’s body and the dried blood on his thighs even more shocking in the more familiar environment of their hotel room. Victor half turned and flinched under Yuuri’s gaze.

“Don’t – don’t look, please.”

“I’m sorry!” Yuuri said, turning away immediately. “So sorry”, he repeated under his breath, gulping back tears.

Victor pushed the bathroom door only half-closed, then stepped into the shower and drew the curtains.

Yuuri desperately wanted to go in and help Victor, soothe him with gentle touches, but he knew he absolutely mustn’t unless Victor specifically asked. So he stood there in the doorway, comforted only by the notion that Victor trusted him enough to ask him to keep guard, while Victor washed himself slowly and painstakingly. Yuuri wished Victor would wash away the pain and memory of it all along with the blood and sweat and the bodily fluids of the man who had hurt him. But instead it was only the evidence of what had been done to Victor which was washing down the drain, lessening the chances of bringing the person who was responsible for this to justice. _Who was he?_ Yuuri’s mind, only focused on Victor’s well being until now, started to rush through the possibilities.

It happened at the venue where Victor skated.

If it had happened anywhere else, then Yuuri might have thought the assailant was someone unknown. But it had happened right after Victor had won yet another gold medal. Victor was still wearing his costume, he hadn’t even got around to changing it. This wasn’t a random attack. This was someone who knew the place and had access. Could it have been a fan? Possible, but unlikely. Fans were usually the first to leave the venue and the guards usually stayed behind to check that all the fans had left. Of course someone could have been hiding, or the guards could have been bribed.... Yuuri pinched his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. This would all be so much easier if Victor just told them who he was, but Victor refused to even acknowledge this had happened to him. Yuuri remembered the therapist Dr Stolski had recommended and resolved to call her first thing tomorrow and schedule an appointment. He hoped Victor would be amenable.

Yuuri’s phone rang, startling him.

“Did you find him?” the voice on the phone spoke without preamble.

Yakov. He forgot he’d alerted the old man last night when he couldn’t find Victor and promised to call him back when he did.

“Yes”, Yuuri answered shortly, keeping his voice down in case Victor heard him over the sound of the shower. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I – er –“

“Is he alright?” Yakov asked.

Nothing could have prepared Yuuri for the horror of having to relate to Yakov what happened to Victor. Words in English failed him at that point. His native language would have failed him too.

There was a shocked silence in the wake of Yakov’s eventual understanding.

Yuuri counted to five slowly, feeling cold sweat pour down his back.

“Vitya...,” the old man finally said, “can I talk to Vitya?”

“He’s taking a shower now”, Yuuri reported. “I’ll tell him to call you back when he’s done. But you should know that he... Victor is pretending this didn’t happen to him. I don’t know if it’s the shock or... um. I have – I mean, the doctor at the hospital was very kind and gave me the number of a good therapist and I’ll call her tomorrow”, he stumbled on his words in his haste to explain everything.

“Pffft”, was Yakov’s immediate reply. “Shrinks”, he said, dismissively.

Yuuri decided this wasn’t the moment to argue with Yakov about what constituted a shrink.

“Right”, he said.

“Vitya is strong”, Yakov went on. “But he’s also like a child.”

Yuuri nodded in understanding, even though he knew Yakov couldn’t see him. Having lived with Victor for even less than a year, he knew exactly what Yakov meant.

“He needs someone to take care of him”, the old coach continued, his tone implying marginal doubt that Yuuri was up to the task.

Yuuri fervently wished this was a discussion they would be having under better circumstances.

But Yakov had issued a challenge – implying that he had been there for Victor when Yuuri wasn’t, and will continue to be there; and while Yuuri appreciated that, he wasn’t about to be cast aside. So there was steel determination in his voice and no trace of his previous fumbling, when he answered, seriously:

“There is nothing more important to me than seeing Victor’s well taken care of. Always. But especially now.”

“Hmm”, Yakov said, but without real heat, something in Yuuri’s tone must’ve convinced him. “Please tell him to call me.”

“I will”, Yuuri promised. “And I’ll keep you posted.”

“Please do”, Yakov said, and it wasn’t a polite request, it was a ‘you’d better.’

Yuuri was about to hang up, when Yakov said:

“Wait, Yuuri – do we know who did this to him?”

Yuuri clenched his teeth.

“Victor hasn’t said anything. Your guess is as good as mine. But-“

“Yes?”

“I promise I am going to find out, one way or another.”

 

Victor finally emerged from the scalding shower, skin flushed and rubbed raw. Yuuri smiled warmly and handed him his clothes, which Victor took wordlessly, and started dressing mechanically, staring with unseeing eyes at the sink. Suddenly his face twisted in a grimace of pain.

“I can’t stop thinking about that ugly thing that happened!” Victor cried. “That poor creature!”

Yuuri’s heart clenched in pity, but he saw a small window of opportunity to find out more about what happened.

“Who was it, Victor? Who hurt the poor creature? Did you see?”

“I saw everything!” Victor yelled. “I couldn’t _not_ see! I wanted to escape from there. I couldn’t stop it!” He banged with his fist into the wall until his knuckles bruised.

Yuuri rushed forward, abandoning any and all plans about making Victor talk about this. He grasped Victor’s grazed knuckles and kissed them softly, caressing his hand:

“Shhh. I’m sorry. Shhh.”

“I wish I could forget!” Victor wailed. “Isn’t there any way to make me forget! Isn’t there a pill for that?” He sobbed fiercely and brokenly, curling in on himself.

Yuuri sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around his fiance. He felt like screaming, but he knew he needed to be strong for Victor. So he continued to hold Victor close, kissing his forehead, caressing his hair softly, and murmuring words of comfort, in whatever language they came to him.

 

Victor seemed exhausted after his long cry, so Yuuri had no trouble in coaxing him out of the bathroom. They sat in front of the small table together, Victor staring at the white walls of their room. He shuddered with distaste.

“This place looks dumb. So bland and _real._ I need some colour.”

“We’ll go home soon”, Yuuri answered carefully, after a short silence. “Here’s your tea.”

“Thank you. But hmmmm. I’d like some vodka right now.”

“There isn’t any”, Yuuri answered quickly, although the minibar held every alcoholic drink known to man. “Drink the tea, it will do you good.”

Victor took a small sip. Yuuri watched him and reflected that Victor looked nearly as pale as the walls he suddenly developed a dislike of.

“Are you in pain?” Yuuri dared to ask him.

“Yes”, Victor answered immediately.

“Let’s order some breakfast so you can take a pill.”

“I don’t want to eat.”

“Just some toast”, Yuuri begged. “Please, Victor. We’ll eat together - you, me and Makkachin.”

“I love you, Yuuri. Please don’t leave me.”

Yuuri froze. He didn’t understand why Victor suddenly said that in the middle of an entirely unrelated conversation, but this wasn’t how he wanted to hear those words. It really wasn’t. But it was easy to reply.

“Me too, Victor. Love you so much. I won’t ever leave you.”

Yuuri leaned in carefully and kissed the top of Victor’s head, his hair still wet from the shower, and was happy to feel Victor leaning into his touch.

“I’ll order a light breakfast”, Yuuri decided.

Victor threw up what little breakfast Yuuri had managed to coax him into eating, but Yuuri had no heart to deny him the pain pills he obviously needed.

He decided taking Victor out for a bit of fresh air would be good for him, then afterwards he could hopefully persuade Victor to sleep a little.

“Shall we take Makka out for a walk now?”

“Sure”, Victor answered.

“Only around the block”, Yuuri reminded him. “We’ll be quick.”

He leaned down and put the leash on the excited poodle.

“Sorry, Makkachin”, Yuuri told the dog. “This will be a short walk. I’ll make it up to you some other time.”

The walk was uneventful, except for the fact that Victor walked very close to Yuuri, so close their arms brushed at all times. Not that Yuuri minded, but he could sense Victor’s anxiety.

It was only when they returned to the hotel that Yuuri remembered:

“Oh, Yakov called while you were in the shower. He said to call him back.”

Victor’s eyes widened slightly, but then stood up and rummaged in his bag for his phone. He composed himself for a few moments, but when he finally made the call and spoke, his tone was steady.

“Privet, Yakov”, he greeted. Yuuri couldn’t hear what Yakov said, but then he heard Victor reply in English and was absurdly happy that Victor thought about him enough not to shut him out of the conversation.

“I don’t want to talk to the press today,” Victor was saying.

Damn, Yuuri had forgotten everything about the post-championship interviews. He hoped Yakov would be able to field them.

“Please think of something”, Victor continued. “Tell them I’ve caught the flu. I leave for Piter today. I want to go home.”

“Yes, with Yuuri.”

“Thank you, Yakov.”

“I know.”

“Dasvidaniya.”

Well, that went well, Yuuri thought, releasing a heavy breath. Victor had sounded so... normal.

“Piter?” Yuuri asked Victor, after he hung up.

Victor gave a small smile at Yuuri’s confusion.

“Saint Petersburg. That’s what we Russians call it for short. You have to start calling it that too, Yuuri.”

“Haa, right. So then - shall I book us tickets?”

“Yes, please. As soon as possible.” 

“Don’t you want to get some sleep first?” Yuuri tried.

“No”, Victor answered firmly. “I want to go home.”

 

~

Victor didn’t sleep on the plane, as he usually did no matter how short the trip, and he didn’t sleep when they arrived home either. He also refused Yuuri’s additional offers of food.

They took Makkachin out for another short walk in the evening, and Yuuri tried to think of a way to persuade Victor to eat and sleep. He also tried really hard not to panic and possibly break down and cry, which was difficult, considering he was exhausted and worried. He briefly considered he could use Yakov’s help. He had known Victor longer and might know how to deal with him in this condition. But Yakov was still in Moscow, dealing with the press and making explanations for Victor’s absence, and besides, Yuuri had promised the old coach that he’d take care of Victor. He wouldn’t just give up at the very first hurdle.

As Yuuri gave Makkachin his food, he got an idea, that was better than nothing. He brought their stack of DVDs into the living room, along with the remote, turned on the tv, and then began to heave pillows and blankets on to the couch, in a poor attempt at a pillow fort, hastily assembled. Victor sat on a chair and watched him quietly. Once he was finished with making the couch as comfortable as possible, Yuuri started to bring in food from the kitchen, which he set on the table in front of the couch, the usual movie food like chips and pretzels, but also apples, oranges, bananas, some leftover biscuits that were Victor’s favorites, even a small yogurt. He laid all these on the table within arm’s reach of the couch, but didn’t say anything to Victor about eating. Finally, he returned to the DVDs and started browsing through them.

“Wanna help me pick a movie?” he called out casually to Victor. He heard Victor get up from his chair and shuffle up behind him and he smiled to himself. Victor watched over his shoulder as Yuuri sorted through DVDs, and at one point he said:

“How about this? I loved Finding Nemo and never got around to seeing the sequel.”

“Yup, me neither!” Yuuri replied. “Let’s watch it.”

He slid the DVD inside, and sat on the couch, holding his arms out to Victor.

“Join me?”

Victor didn’t need to be asked twice. Yuuri settled in, and pulled Victor half on top of him, arranging the blankets around them both. Once they were settled, Makkachin happily joined them, curling up on a pillow. Yuuri wrapped an arm around Victor, pulling him close, then turned on the tv. From time to time, Yuuri reached out and helped himself to food from the nearby table, hoping to lead by example. At one point, Victor hesitantly reached out as well, and took a biscuit, which he eventually abandoned on the table half-eaten.

The movie turned out to be very boring, which had the benefit of putting Victor to sleep. Yuuri could have fist-pumped in joy when he realized Victor had fallen asleep, breathing deep and regular, and he tried to lie as still as possible, so as not to disturb him.

But Victor’s peaceful sleep didn’t last.

All too soon, his breathing quickened, and then he was twisting in Yuuri’s arms, eyes screwed shut, as if in pain.

“Victor”, Yuuri called, alarmed, pressing his palm on Victor’s forehead to wake him.

Victor sat up abruptly, eyes wild.

“Shhh, you’re safe, it’s okay”, Yuuri said, reaching out for him. “It’s just a nightmare, Victor.”

Victor crumpled back on the bed, features twisting in agony.

“I don’t think I want to sleep anymore”, he whined. “I’ll just have nightmares again.”

“But you must sleep, love,” Yuuri whispered to Victor, brushing his hair back gently. “I’ll be right here to wake you up if you have nightmares. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe.”

 _And if anyone tries to touch you again, I’ll kill them_ , Yuuri thought.

“I’ll protect you”, he said out loud.

“Yuuri”, Victor frowned.

Yuuri belatedly remembered Victor still wasn’t accepting that this had happened to him. But then Victor suddenly relented, and cuddled close to Yuuri again.

“Yes, hold me, Yuuri”, and wrapped both arms around Yuuri tightly.

Yuuri was happy to reciprocate.

Tomorrow, they’d both wake up with sore backs for sleeping on the couch but Yuuri thought it was a small price to pay for feeling Victor warm and safe in his arms.

 

~

The second day, Yuuri made Victor some rice pudding.

He remembered that his mom used to make it to him as a dessert when he was small. It made him feel good and it wasn’t very fattening. It was what people called comfort food.

Victor seemed to like it. He didn’t throw up afterwards, which was a small victory in itself for Yuuri.

 

Yakov called again. He talked to Victor briefly, then asked to talk to Yuuri. He explained to Yuuri that secrecy was the best policy in this condition and they needed to contain the information. No one aside from the two of them would know the truth. Yuuri hesitated at that, because that would go against his wish to find out who did this to Victor by questioning those who had been present around the venue at that time, and eventually bring the person responsible to justice. However, in order to do that, he needed to leave Victor for a while, and Yuuri was extremely reluctant to do that so soon. So he agreed for the time being to go with Yakov’s story.

Yakov had decided to tell the world that Victor had chickenpox. That bought them a good deal of time, and ensured that no one would question why Victor wasn’t seen in public. Yuuri had to admit that this was a great idea and he was grateful to Yakov for his quick thinking and for fielding all the questions about Victor. He didn’t think he could deal with the press, on top of everything else.

 

Yuuri waited outside the bathroom again while Victor spent a long half hour taking another scalding shower, and emerged, his slender form slumped in on itself, features twisted in a disbelieving frown, like a child in the grip of a nightmare. Yuuri held out his arms to him wordlessly, but Victor didn’t acknowledge Yuuri, and went to sit on the floor, in the furthest corner of the room. Makkachin went up to Victor slowly, sniffed him carefully, nudging his knee, and then plopped down beside his master with a small whine. After a while, Yuuri went to join them on the floor because what else could he do.

Victor had no reaction, just kept staring at the wall in front of him.

With a jolt, Yuuri remembered Victor’s words from yesterday: “If I sit still for a long time, I could imagine I don’t exist. It’s such a crazy wonderful feeling.”

‘How can I reach through the darkness he’s in?’ Yuuri wondered.

He remembered the therapist Stolski had recommended and resolved again to call her today. But not before he spoke to Victor about it. Yuuri took a deep breath.

“Victor”, he said. “Victor, I want you to see someone.”

“Who?” Victor murmured, as if from far away.

“Someone who will help you – with your nightmares.”

Victor’s frown deepened.

“Do you want to leave, Yuuri?” he asked abruptly.

Yuuri was taken aback.

“What? No, Victor. That’s not it! It’s just that this person is an expert and she’ll help you in ways that I can’t. Please just go and talk to her, at least twice a week, or something. Please do it, for me.”

Victor remained stubbornly silent.

“Victor, do you care about me at all? You told me yesterday that you loved me. Do you still feel that way?”

Victor’s eyes flew to Yuuri’s for a moment in warm acknowledgement.

“Of course I love my Yuuri,” he answered, with an almost smile.

“Then you must do this for me”, Yuuri replied, taking Victor’s hand and squeezing it in both his own.

Yuuri knew he wasn’t playing fair, but he absolutely needed Victor to get some professional help. He felt he was way in over his head with the way Victor spoke and acted sometimes. He wanted Victor to be sane and whole.


	7. Lavender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains suicidal thoughts and a suicide attempt in the first part of the chapter.  
> Now, for the people who might find this triggering: I would like to take a chance and ask that you do read it, because there is some comfort to go with the hurt – it will not leave you in a bad place. If it does, feel free to yell at me. Just don’t go through whatever it is you’re going through alone.  
> I completely understand if you decide to skip it, though. The most important thing is, if you’re having such thoughts, don’t be ashamed to ask for help. Stay safe.

 

Lavender

 

Yuuri turned the card over in his hands.

Dr. Maya Rodionovna, Licensed Psychotherapist, and a phone number, that was all it held. The image in the background depicted the light blue waves of the ocean. His fingers trembled as he picked up his phone.

The conversation went well. Dr. Rodionovna, Maya, as she insisted on being addressed, spoke English as well as Stolski had, and came across as a kind, energetic and positive person. The only drawback was that she lived in Moscow, which Yuuri berated himself for not having anticipated as obvious. However, she graciously accepted to come to St Petersburg twice a week for sessions, after Yuuri had explained the situation to her. Yuuri offered to pay her double for the inconvenience, in addition to defraying the costs of the flights, but Maya wasted no time in making it clear that her regular session fee plus the flight costs would be perfectly acceptable. They scheduled their first meeting for Friday.

 

~

Victor hated waking up; the coming to slow and painful awareness.

He felt strangely exhausted, even though he had done absolutely nothing to warrant it, his entire self being at a complete standstill.

At least a nightmare hadn’t woken him up this time. It did earlier that night though – as usual, he woke up in a cold sweat, and he screamed shrilly without meaning to. He never meant to, but his body always reacted without his permission, kicking and screaming, as if making up for that one awful time when he couldn’t. Yuuri had held him, as always did, soothing him with soft words and gentle forehead kisses, running comforting hands up and down his back. Victor’s heart gradually eased its erratic pumping as he settled down, but the comfort of Yuuri’s embrace came with the guilt of having woken his fiance up like this again. No matter how many times Yuuri told him it was alright, that he didn’t mind, and he’d always be there for him, Victor knew better. This could never be alright.

Now, in the light of the early dawn, Yuuri slept peacefully next to him, mouth slightly open in utter tranquility, like a child.

The sight would have warmed his heart a few days ago; but now it felt as if he, Victor, was intruding on a scene he had no right to be a part of.

Yuuri was good and pure and beautiful and he didn’t deserve this, not a bruised and tainted body lying next to him, and not an empty, broken mind. Yuuri had asked him to see someone, and Victor had seen his chance to let Yuuri know he had an out – he could leave if he wanted to. Victor wouldn’t keep him here, not if Yuuri was unhappy. And he knew for certain that Yuuri was unhappy, Victor could see it in his face every day, the sadness, the exhaustion. Victor didn’t want to see that on Yuuri’s face, but he couldn’t drive it away, because he was himself trapped, bound tightly in a circle of misery and exhaustion.

And Victor could try to pretend that everything was alright, but it took more energy than he felt himself capable of. He realized that what he wanted most of all was to be left alone, so that he didn’t have to think, to act. Trying to be good for Yuuri was a small torture in itself, forcing his body, which Victor tried so hard to detach himself from, to eat, to sleep, to _exist_ , for Yuuri’s sake. And Yuuri would look at him with those warm chocolate eyes of his and envelop him in such love that he didn’t feel he would ever deserve again, because Victor did literally nothing to earn it. He couldn’t even please Yuuri with the smallest things. All Yuuri ever asked of Victor was to eat and sleep and Victor couldn’t even manage those things properly.

The food wouldn’t stay inside of him, so more often than not, he rushed to the bathroom to throw up, and then he saw the look of pity and disappointment in Yuuri’s eyes and knew he had, once again, failed him.

Sleep didn’t come to Victor easily either, but he tried to sit still in Yuuri’s arms and pretend to be sound asleep. Eventually sleep would come for real, and with it, inevitably, the nightmares, to which Victor’s body reacted strongly without his own permission, and he hated it. Yuuri always comforted and held Victor when he woke up like this, even in the small hours of the night, despite his confusion at being abruptly awakened; but Victor knew he had failed Yuuri again.

Victor remembered those moments before Yuuri found him, when he sat in that bathroom and thought of nothing, felt absolutely nothing. He envied himself then. He wished he could recapture those moments. It had been so easy, not to think and feel, to pretend like he was watching everything happen on a tv screen.

Victor wished he could change the channel.

No – Victor wished he could turn off the TV entirely.

Slowly, he disentangled himself from Yuuri’s embrace, careful not to wake his fiance, and stood up. He lingered a little by the bed, watching Yuuri, then he turned abruptly and went out of the room. His fingers ached with how much he wanted to touch Yuuri, to get one long and lasting feel of him, but he doubted he’d have the strength for what he wanted to to afterwards. Besides, Yuuri might wake up. It was better like this. One last long look would be all Victor would allow himself.

Makkachin’s head shot up as Victor passed him. Quickly, he jumped off the bed and trotted after Victor. Yuuri slept on.

Victor went into the kitchen and gave Makkachin his breakfast. While the dog ate contently, Victor caressed his long floppy ears, and kissed the top of his head.

“Be good, Makka”, he told him.

Victor picked up his bottle of pain meds and left the kitchen.

Makkachin paused from eating to gaze after him inquiringly.

 

Victor paused in front of the front door for a long time, fingers ready to pull back the bolt. He was still so irrationally afraid of going outside without Yuuri, which was funny, in light of what he was about to do.

Finally, hating himself for it, he stepped back from the front door, tears streaming down his face.

He felt sorry for Yuuri, but he couldn’t do it otherwise.

 

The walls were stark white, still Victor couldn’t find it in himself to care anymore. He felt strangely detached from it all, now that his mind was made up.

Before he could overthink anything, he took a fistful of pills and swallowed them, washing them down with water from the sink. Well, that was all there was to it. A strong, distasteful, but permanent cure to an illness which was plaguing him. It needed to be done. He looked inside the bottle. There were only a few pills left, so he took those remaining ones too, washing them down with more water.

Somewhere at the threshold between pain and nothingness, Victor’s mind went mercifully blank.

 

~

Yuuri woke up with a start. He blinked slowly in the sunlight streaming in from the large windows of the apartment, confused about where he was and why he had awoken so abruptly. He didn’t think he had a nightmare, but something felt somehow not right.

Then he remembered with a jolt – the events of the past few days.

He looked around, trying to realize the reason for his feeling of uneasiness.

Yuuri had managed to coax Victor into bed last night, after a cup of relaxing tea. Yuuri held Victor in his arms, and begged him to get some sleep, promising he’d wake Victor immediately if he had any nightmares. Victor had settled down, and after a short while, his regular breathing and the comfortable bed lulled Yuuri to sleep. And so Yuuri had slept like a log until morning, exhaustion having caught up with him.

_And now Victor wasn’t in the room._

Yuuri’s eyes widened, and the blood froze in his veins.

Victor hardly moved an inch away from Yuuri these days, he still asked Yuuri to keep guard outside the bathroom every time he went in.

And now Victor wasn’t anywhere near.

Yuuri’s anxious mind was quick to provide him with all sorts of scenarios, one more horrible than the other. Could someone have broken in their apartment, and taken Victor? Why had he been so quick to assume that Victor would be safe after the attack? What if he was still targeted? What if the person who hurt Victor wanted to ensure he didn’t reveal his identity? Yuuri cursed himself for not foreseeing this possibility. He had been careless.

Yuuri jumped out of bed in a full blown panic.

One quick look at the front door revealed that it was still bolted like he had left it last night; and the apartment showed no signs of any intrusion. He did a quick inspection of the kitchen and living room, heart beating erratically. Suddenly, his ears registered faint scratching and whining, and Yuuri scrambled in the direction of the sounds. It was Makkachin – scratching at the door of the bathroom. Yuuri frowned. Why was the door to the bathroom closed? Ever since they returned from Moscow, it was always kept ajar.

“Victor?” Yuuri called, and knocked on the door, frowning. He tried the door. Not only was it closed, it was _locked. “Victor!”_ Yuuri screamed, panic welling up in him.

Makkachin stopped whining and started to bark loudly, joining in.

Why would Victor lock himself in the bathroom?

Yuuri pounded on the door, and shook the handle.

“Victor! Are you in there?? Open the door! Victor, please! It’s me, Yuuri! Open the door, Victor!! Okay okay okay ... I need to calm down. I need to break down this door. Right. Makkachin! Come here, boy!”

Yuuri locked Makkachin in the bedroom, then came back and heaved his body against the bathroom door with the intent to break it. The door shook on its hinges, but didn’t give. But Yuuri was nothing if not persistent and adrenaline-fueled panic gave him an added dose of strength. After no more than a minute of earnest kicking, it was the lock which finally gave, and the door slid open.

Yuuri almost screamed at the sight which greeted him. Victor was lying on the cold tiles in a heap, motionless, eyes closed. Yuuri’s eyes were drawn to the empty bottle of prescription pain pills, abandoned on the floor next to Victor, and he drew in a shocked breath, as he realized what Victor had done.

For a long second, Yuuri just stared, numb with terror, convinced that Victor was dead. Then his eyes hardened and he tried to shake himself out of his daze. He reached out for one of Victor’s wrists, where the angry red bruises had by now faded to purple intermingled with yellow, and felt his pulse. It was slow and thready, but it was there. Yuuri almost burst into tears, hope awakening again in his heart, and with it, the fear for what he almost lost and could yet still lose.

Victor wasn’t dead yet, but Yuuri needed to act fast. With a rushed prayer to whatever gods were inclined to hear him, Yuuri called an ambulance in halting Russian for the second time that week.

 

~

“Victor, why, baby? Why did you feel like you had to do this?”

Victor opened his eyes slowly, blinking owlishly in the glaring light. His eyes were dull, lifeless, as he turned them on Yuuri – he winced when he saw Yuuri’s tear stained face, and Yuuri’s heart broke all over again. It felt like Victor didn’t want to be there – it felt to Yuuri like he was selfishly hanging on to Victor, while Victor desperately wanted to fly away.

“You....”, Yuuri fought to voice words, through ugly tears, “you told me not to leave you. But it’s okay if you leave _me_?” he asked, unable to keep the resentment out of his voice. “Why do you hurt me so?”

“I never wanted this”, Victor murmured, staring at the ceiling. “I wasn’t supposed to wake up. I don’t want to be a burden anymore. I don’t want to cause you anymore hurt, my Yuuri.”

That just made Yuuri cry even harder.

“You’re selfish”, he couldn’t help accusing Victor. “You talk about what you want, but have you thought about what I want? I don’t want you to die! If you don’t want to be with me anymore, I’ll go, but –“

Yuuri’s phone rang, making him jump.

He hastily wiped away tears, and coughed. He stood up, looked at the phone, and considered leaving the room to answer the call, but hesitated, wondering whether he’d be allowed back inside or not, if he left. The doctors were adamant that nothing was to disturb Victor until they could schedule a psychiatric consult later in the day, and Yuuri had to beg them repeatedly, and swear he was not a threat, volunteering to undergo a psychiatric consult himself, until they finally relented. In the end, Yuuri decided to take the conversation in the adjoining bathroom.

“Ah, Dr. Rodionovna – Maya, yes, sorry. I forgot to save your number in my phone. Oh, your flight has landed, oh no, I mean - yes, we were supposed to meet. Except - Uh – there’s been a  - an accident. Victor, he – I’m sorry, we’ll have to postpone.... Yes, I should just tell you what happened. Haah. He – uh, he took – there was that bottle of prescription painkillers which I now realize I should have hidden, but I had no way of knowing, I didn’t think he’d do this, it never occurred to me, although it _should have_ .... Yes. God, I’m pathetic, again I apologize. Um, Victor took the entire bottle. I found him unconscious in the bathroom when I woke up. He wanted to d- die,” Yuuri’s voice broke on the last word and he heaved huge terrified breaths. “I... I shouldn’t have.... I should’ve.... Uhhh. Yeah, uh, they did a – um, gastric lavage, managed to stabilize him and get the drugs out of his system. Yes, he’s awake now, but - Yes, we’re at the hospital. .... Of course you can, I would be very grateful. Please check in with the doctor who admitted Victor as you come in, his name is Klen. Tell him you’re his psychiatric consult, show him your credentials, and he’ll have you sent right in. Thank you so much. Yes, please. I’ll be here. Thank you.”

“You know, I heard every word of that”, Victor said as Yuuri came out.

“Good, because it was all about you”, Yuuri answered. “I just talked to your psychotherapist. The one you promised me you’d see, remember? Is that still on?”

“Yes”, Victor answered, in the same flat, resigned voice.

Yuuri had a sudden cruel urge to shake him out of his apathy.

“Victor”, he said sternly, forcing his tears back, and trying to make his voice ring with strong conviction. “Like I said before, if you want me to go, I’ll go. But I want to make sure you’re taken care of and that you won’t try to hurt yourself anymore.”

“I didn’t want to hurt myself, Yuuri. I wanted to end it all”, Victor argued, but without any real heat. “And I don’t want you to go. You said I was being selfish. Well, if I were selfish, I’d want to keep you by my side. Even though it hurts for you to be there.”

“Victor, how can you think –“

“I see the pain every day in your eyes, Yuuri.”

“Yes, this is painful, but we’re in this together. It’s painful for me to think of what you went through, what you’re still going through! You’re the love of my life. If you asked me to go away, I’d go, because I respect your wishes - but I’d still suffer, just knowing that you suffer.”

“If you respect my wishes, why wouldn’t you respect my wish of ending everything?”

“But that can’t really be your wish, Victor. Please, baby, it can’t be,” Yuuri begged, feeling his voice break again.

Victor remained silent.

“Please,” Yuuri whispered again, aimlessly, his previous plan of being stern and determined thrown to the wind just like that. He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, falling to his knees beside Victor’s bed and buried his face in the covers. He felt Victor’s fingers in his hair, caressing him with soft, distracted motions, and shuddered.

“What do you want from me, Yuuri?” Victor asked him finally. “Be honest.”

It reminded Yuuri of another time, long ago, Victor and him and Makkachin sitting on a beach in Hasetsu, watching the black tailed gulls, Victor asking him, ‘What do you want me to be to you, Yuuri?’ Then Yuuri remembered yet another time, in a parking lot in China, Victor asking him with exasperation, ‘What should I do, should I just kiss you or something?’

Yuuri’s answer would forever remain the same.

“I only want you, as you are, Victor – to please stay by my side and never leave me. In return, I’ll give you all the love in my heart. Because there is nowhere else in this world I’d rather be than by your side.”

“Even when I punch you in the face in my sleep?”

“Yes. Definitely. Even then. So please don’t ever even think of leaving me? Not like this.”

Victor sighed, and didn’t reply, but his fingers tightened momentarily in Yuuri’s hair, and Yuuri desperately wanted to take that as a ‘yes’.

 

~

“Yuuri Katsuki? I’m Maya Rodionovna, I’m honored and pleased to meet you, although I’m very saddened by the circumstances.”

“Thank you so much for coming, Dr-um-Maya.”

“You didn’t just expect me to abandon you?”

“No, but the situation....has become more complicated and I thought....”

“Yes, you’re right. In light of this new development, we need to schedule more than just two sessions per week. I’d say we go with three in the beginning and depending on Victor’s progress we can adjust later on. What do you think?”

“Uh – so you are still okay with this? The trip back and forth to Moscow and.... three times a week? And the price?”

“The price remains as we discussed. I checked my schedule, made some changes, and I think I can make this work but unfortunately the third day will have to be during the weekend – is that alright with you?”

“It’s no problem, whatever works for you!”

“Perfect. So then, Monday, Wednesday and Saturday, at 5 o’clock?”

“Yes, yes. That’s great. I apologize so much for the inconvenience.”

Maya waved it off.

“I hope I’m able to help. Now – since it’s Friday, I would like to meet Victor today and if it all goes well, and he agrees, we’ll have our first session tomorrow.”

“That would be fantastic. But I should tell you – they’ve been talking about keeping Victor here in the hospital for observation for a few days. Not for health reasons, they’ve cleared out the drugs from his system and he only needs rest to recuperate, but.. they’re worried that he might - try again. Hell, I’m worried too. I don’t know what to do....”

“Alright, Yuuri. Let me see what I can do about that.”

 

~

“Hello, Victor. My name is Maya Rodionovna. It is an honor to meet you but I regret that we have to meet under these circumstances. I’ll be your therapist, if you’ll have me.”

“I promised Yuuri I’d talk to you. So, what do you want to know?”

“You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to.”

Victor snorted.

“Yeah, right. After I did this to myself, they’re probably gonna lock me up anyway.”

“No, they wouldn’t be so bold as to lock Russia’s national hero away”, Maya said, with an amused smile.

Then she became serious again:

“But you do have to talk to someone, before they discharge you. Doesn’t have to be me.”

Victor shrugged.

“To be honest, I don’t really care who I talk to. I just want to get this over with. I assume you have questions prepared so let’s get on with it.”

Maya spread her arms widely apart and shrugged:

“No, I’m afraid I don’t. I came a little unprepared.”

“Huh. Isn’t that a little unprofessional of you?”

“I suppose it is. Then again, I did not expect to meet you in a hospital after you overdosed on painkillers.”

“Guess I should be glad I still manage to surprise people.”

Maya gave a small smile, which she quickly suppressed. Victor raised an eyebrow and turned his head to stare at the walls again.

“I’m in hell. Having to stare at these stupid white walls again. I hate it.”

“Do you know what Oscar Wilde’s famous last words were?”

“Eh??” Victor reacted, eyes snapping to hers.

“‘ _My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. Either it has to go, or I go’_ ”, Maya recited, with a grimace.

Victor huffed, in slight amusement:

“I shudder to think what wallpaper he had to deal with on his death bed.”

“You’re hardly on your death bed, Victor. Besides, I would have thought you liked the color white. It’s the color of the ice you skate on, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think I like it anymore.”

“What were you thinking about when you swallowed all those pills?”

“Nothing. I thought of nothing. I just want everything to be over. No pain, no fear, no remorse. I just hoped to have it all blissfully and entirely over – the end. Turns out – it was too much to hope for,” he added bitterly.

“Don’t you think the people who love you would be more than a little sad if you had succeeded?”

“They will, but then they’d have to accept it’s for the best.”

“Do you really think, in your heart of hearts, that it’s for the best? Do you see no hope for the better?”

“No. Not really.”

“Then why did you agree to talk to me?”

“Because Yuuri asked me to.”

“Ah. So you care about your fiance enough to do this little thing for him.”

“Of course I care about him!”

“But not enough to stay with him, right?”

“Stop twisting words! This isn’t about Yuuri!”

“I’m a psychologist, twisting words is sort of in our job description”, Maya smiled self-deprecatingly. “And you’re right, this is all about yourself, Victor.”

They stared at each other.

“You know, this isn’t how these sessions usually go.”

“What”, Victor said, with a fake smile, “the patients are more agreeable, are they?”

“Not at all. The ‘patient’ as you put it, though I prefer the term ‘client’, is usually just as contrary as you are, if not more so. It’s the therapist who’s different. They will calmly and patiently rephrase your words, until you somehow arrive to their true meaning. It’s a rather pretentious business and we could be at it for years.”

Victor sighed.

“I don’t have years.”

“Nobody feels like they have years. They would all like their problems solved as quickly and painlessly as possible.”

Victor lowered his eyes, recognizing the truth in this. Nothing was ever quick and painless.

“Well, fortunately, I agree with them”, Maya suddenly said. “I can’t just stand by my client’s hospital bed and reflect their words back to them, like I’m a sybill who has more wisdom but just chooses not to tell. We’re all in this darkness together and we have to find a way out. The question is, if I give you my hand, will you take it?”

Victor only returned her look in silence.

“See, I believe that you do have some hope left in you”, Maya continued. “You made a little joke before. Sarcastic, but funny. If you can still find some humor in you, then you still have hope. Even if you’re not aware of it right now.”

“Of course, you’re the expert and you know better, but you should know – I never imagined my attempt wouldn’t succeed. I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want to deal with this.”

“A part of you certainly did”, Maya agreed. “But was another part of you happy to wake up and see Yuuri’s face again?”

“That just made me feel guilty.”

“But wouldn’t dying have made you feel more guilty?”

Victor looked at her incredulously.

“Dead men don’t feel anything.”

“Of course”, Maya chuckled. “Silly me. Yes, dead people don’t feel, they don’t see, they don’t remember. Ah, that sounds pretty boring to me. An eternity of boredom, imagine that.”

Victor frowned, then sighed.

“I’m tired.”

Maya’s eyes softened in genuine sympathy.

“I know.”

There was unbroken silence for a few moments, then Maya said:

“You can rest, Victor.”

The chair creaked as Maya made herself more comfortable in it, and took out her phone, giving her whole attention to it. Victor soon started to hear the familiar sounds of the Candy Crush Saga game.

He sighed and closed his eyes. It was him who broke the silence a few minutes later:

“You know, while I was in that bathroom, before Yuuri found me, it didn’t feel like any time had passed. It didn’t even feel like I existed. Do you know what that feeling was?”

Maya shook her head.

“It was a sort of Nothingness. I wish I could feel that again.”

“Sleep is also a lack of awareness”, Maya answered quietly.

“No, when I sleep I have nightmares.”

“But what if dying is also a kind of sleep?” Maya whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying, no one knows what death is like. It could be nothingness, like you hope, or it could be something else.”

“Are you trying to scare me now?”

“Not at all. I’m just thinking out loud. It intrigues me as well.”

“What does?” Victor snapped.

“That some people, like you, believe that death is nothingness, while others want it to be a different sort of awareness.”

Victor rolled his eyes.

“But the point is, we don’t really know, do we?” Maya continued.

“That’s irrelevant”, Victor bit out, but there was a certain doubt in his eyes now.

“Victor, all I ask of you – is a bit of _time_. Can you give me that, some of your time? I promise to earn it. Please give me, and Yuuri, and Yakov, and let’s not forget Makkachin, and all your friends who love you, not to mention your countless fans - a little more of your time.”

“How long?” Victor asked, eyes filling with tears.

“Oh, I don’t know”, Maya said. “Let’s go with lucky seven, shall we? Seven months.”

“That’s way too long.”

“It will fly right by for Yuuri.”

Victor’s features crumpled.

“ _That’s_ so not fair.”

“Well, the way I see it, I _only_ have seven months to change your mind, with your life at stake. Forget about playing fair, anything goes.”

Maya made a face, and Victor’s lips twitched slightly in an almost smile.

“Do we shake on it?” Maya said, and extended a hand.

Victor took it.

“Do you trust me to keep my promise?” he asked.

“Trust has to be implicit between us,” she answered firmly. “I trust you, as I hope you will trust me.”

“You won’t tell.... Yuuri....”

“Anything we discuss between the two of us, is confidential. If at any time you will wish to include Yuuri in some of our discussions, then we’ll do so. But all that’s said if it’s just you and me, remains between us.”

“Thank you”, Victor nodded, relieved.

“I ask your permission to tell Yuuri, for practical purposes, that we agreed on three sessions per week, in the upcoming seven months.”

“Okay”, Victor answered.

“Alright. Our sessions will be Monday, Wednesday, Saturday. That means, I’ll be seeing you again tomorrow. Goodbye, Victor, and thank you for your time.”

She smiled at him, and turned to go.

“Wait”, Victor said. “Uh – will they... let me go home?”

“Of course”, Maya answered. “I’ll tell them you’re good to be discharged.”

“Do you really trust me not to do it again?” Victor repeated.

“Yes”, Maya answered. “And I take all responsibility in case you fail to repay my trust.”

“Why?” Victor asked incredulously.

“Because I don’t deserve to be called a doctor if I prove to be such a bad judge of character.”

She smiled at him again, and Victor nodded, with a strained smile of his own, in silent gratitude.

 

~

“It’s getting more and more difficult to contain the information”, Yakov growled. “Especially if Vitya can’t seem to keep out of hospitals.”

Yuuri had called Yakov immediately after the doctors had done the gastric lavage, and confirmed to him that Victor would be alright. Yakov had scolded him for not calling him sooner, but Yuuri didn’t want the old man to go through the agony of waiting and not knowing for sure whether Victor would make it, like Yuuri had to do. Yakov had arrived shortly after Maya Rodionovna had gone in to talk to Victor, looking just as exhausted and miserable as Yuuri felt. He would act gruffly because he felt it was an acceptable alternative to breaking down and sobbing, but Yuuri knew better.

Well, Yakov could act like that, but Yuuri didn’t have to. Overwhelmed with barely surpressed emotion, Yuuri launched himself head first into the old man’s chest, clutching at him fiercely.

“I’m sorry”, he wailed. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep, Yakov, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t be absurd!” Yakov snapped, but Yuuri felt arms encircle his back, patting him awkwardly. “You have to sleep. It’s not your fault.”

“It feels like all of this is my fault, Yakov! I wanted Victor to return to skating so much! It never occured to me that he may not want it! But then I realized.... that he didn’t really want it, he was just doing it because it was expected of him. But by then it was too late. And –“

“Wait, what? Where is all this coming from?”

“You’ve seen it too, how insecure Victor became all of a sudden. How he didn’t feel he was good enough anymore.”

“Yes, that was strange”, Yakov pondered. “But you know, Vitya has never ever done anything except what he damn well pleased. I’m sure he’s fond of you and everything, but he wouldn’t do something just because you asked, if his heart wasn’t already set on it.”

“I don’t know”, Yuuri sniffed. “All I know is that I’ve never seen him happy since he returned to competition. Not like he was when he was coaching me.”

Yakov didn’t answer, seemingly deep in thought.

“And then, out of the blue”, Yuuri went on, voice still thick with tears, “ _this terrible thing_ happened! At an international competition, which Victor had just won, no less! Someone just went in there and.... and – hurt him so horribly! How could this have happened, wasn’t there security?! Didn’t anyone see anything? Weren’t there cameras?? It’s just....I somehow still can’t believe it. And now Victor is so broken that he had to – he went and --- swallowed all those pills and I wasn’t there to – “

“Yuuri”, Yakov interrupted him with a frown. “Hm.”

“What is it?” Yuuri asked.

Yakov’s eyes narrowed briefly, then he shook his head.

“Huh, I don’t know. While you were speaking earlier, I thought of something, but now it went away. Damn it.” He rubbed at his tired eyes, in frustration.

Yuuri watched him carefully, noticing the bags under his eyes, and sighed.

“You’re exhausted too.” Then the meaning of Yakov’s words sank in, and his eyes went wide: “You thought of something, like, who could be responsible? Yakov! Please, try to remember!”

“I didn’t think of anyone who could be responsible. It was like an idea or some sort of connection, but it’s all gone now.”

“Damnit!” Yuuri reacted with ire. Then, on a lower tone of voice, but with the same determination, he continued: “Yakov, I know you’re all about containing information, but I have to find out what happened, and why.”

“So how do you propose to go about it?” Yakov said, on a tone of voice which implied he was already against it.

“I need to talk to people.”

“Who?”

“Other skaters who were there at the time.”

The vein on Yakov’s forehead throbbed dangerously.

“This is basically advertising what happened to Victor!”

“I won’t tell them what happened unless I absolutely have to!” Yuuri hastened to reassure him. “And when I do, I’ll make them promise they won’t reveal it to anyone!”

“Pffft, yeah, like that’s gonna work!”

“They can’t be that heartless!”

“I think yours is an idealized image of the figure skating world, Yuratchka. You’re still so young so I can’t really blame you. But you’ve been looking at it through rosy tinted glasses. To you, all skaters are friends and Vitya is a god who can do no wrong.”

“I’ve stopped thinking of Victor as a god quite a while ago actually”, Yuuri answered. “But tell me”, he couldn’t help prodding Yakov, “how do you see Victor?”

“Well, Vitya is an impulsive, whimsical and arrogant manchild. God knows, I’ve put up with him for long enough. Doesn’t mean he’s not also a genius. Thing is,” Yakov’s voice softened momentarily, “we’ve been through a lot, Vitya and I. Hell, I practically raised him. He’s given me enough headaches and made me lose my hair but I love him like a son and I’d kill to protect him.”

Yuuri was stunned into silence at the unexpected confidence.

“Victor speaks very highly of you as well”, he replied. Then, embarassed by the emotional turn of the situation, he diverted: “Your opinion matters to me a lot, so tell me, how do you see the figure skating world?”

“It’s a dog eat dog world”, Yakov answered immediately. “The skaters are first and foremost rivals. Even those competing under the same flag. Perhaps especially those. Look at Yuri and Victor. Perfect example of sibling rivalry right there.”

Yuuri gave a start at the mention of Yuri Plisetsky. He had forgotten entirely about the young Russian. It was crazy, but he wanted to visit him, talk to him. Not to ask him about Victor, because what could Yurio know? He hadn’t been to the Europeans and had been on the bench since before Yuuri had come to Russia. And in any case, he wouldn’t want to burden the teenager with this horrible information.

“So, are you saying Yuri and Victor don’t care about each other?” Yuuri asked Yakov.

“They care.... but they care about winning more. It’s complicated.”

Despite what Yakov said, Yuuri considered Yurio a friend, and he knew Victor did too. In fact, he and Victor had promised to visit Yurio and tell him all about the Europeans. Yuuri found he was looking forward to speaking to someone about something else, for no matter how brief a time. He wondered if he could visit Yurio briefly during Maya’s session with Victor the next day.

“Yuuri”, Yakov interrupted his thought process. “I need to know if you’re gonna do anything stupid.”

“Like what?” Yuuri asked, still preoccupied with his thoughts.

“Like telling the whole bloody world about what happened to Vitya, despite my best efforts....”

“Oh, you can relax. I won’t tell anyone anything just yet. Victor needs me, and I intend to be there for him all the time. But I haven’t forgotten my promise, Yakov. I will find out who did this, eventually. I will, I have to.”

Yakov looked like he wanted to reply something to that, but at that moment, the door to Victor’s room opened and Maya Rodiovna stepped out.

Yakov sized her up suspiciously. She came up to him, extending her hand, with a bright smile.

“Maya Rodionovna. Victor’s therapist.”

“Yakov Feltsman. Victor’s coach”, he replied tersely.

“I’m very glad to make your acquaintance, sir. Victor is lucky to have your support”, she replied, enthusiastically, and Yakov could only nod in graceful acknowledgement at those words. “Well, I’m sure you two want to go in and see Victor now, so I won’t keep you long. I just want to let you know that Victor has agreed to the schedule we discussed, Yuuri. And you’ll be happy to know that I will give the hospital recommendation that he be released tonight. He can come home.”

Maya smiled, expecting relief and happiness, but Yuuri frowned slightly.

“Uh, not to be.... ungrateful or anything”, Yuuri stammered, “but is that really wise? I mean he....I talked to him, he didn’t seem like.... Look, I’m just afraid that he’s gonna try again, and short of tying him to the bed I can’t be certain that....”

“It’s alright”, Maya interrupted him. “Victor and I have made a deal.”

“A deal?” Yakov scoffed.

“Yes, a deal. An agreement. He will give us time. And in exchange we will pay him back in love, and  support – the only currency that really matters. Well, that and a bit of shrink stuff – that will be my job. Secrets of the trade”, she winked.

Yuuri and Yakov just watched her with similarly bewildered expressions.

“Well, she continued. “I’m off now. It’s a beautiful winter day in Piter and I intend to make the most of it. Cheer up, guys, all manner of things shall be well. Maybe bundle up Victor in some furs and take him along for a ride in a troika. Fresh air and excitement is a good old fashioned band aid for most ailments, if not an actual cure.”

Yuuri felt a smile tug at his lips. Maya reminded him a little of Jacek Stolski, except more carefree, energetic and less formal. No wonder they were friends. He wondered briefly what the kindhearted doctor was doing now,  and debated whether he should call him and let him know that Yuuri had enlisted the help of his friend. Probably not – most likely Stolski had other worries, other people vying for his attention.

“Thank you so much, Maya”, he answered. “I think we might just take your advice.”

“See you tomorrow then, Yuuri! Goodbye, sir. It was an honor to meet you.”

She then walked off to speak to Victor’s doctors. Yuuri was slightly surprised, although perhaps he shouldn’t have been, when Victor’s discharge papers were almost immediately signed.

 

“She’s not so bad for a shrink”, Yakov had been forced to concede later that day to Lilia, as he sat with her in the back of the troika, having summed up their meeting in so many words. “And she was very polite, said she was very honored to meet me.” Yakov had to raise his voice a little, so his words wouldn’t be carried away by the wind. “I mean, I’m not saying she’s gonna work miracles or anything, but I guess Yuuri could have made worse choices.”

“Spasibo”, Yuuri shouted back to him, turning slightly. He was sitting in the front of the troika, just behind the driver who spurred the three beautiful white horses on. 

That was high praise coming from Yakov, and Yuuri smiled, feeling lighter than he had in days. He vaguely heard Lilia reply something to Yakov, along the lines that sometimes it takes a woman to set a man right – but he couldn’t be very sure that he understood correctly. Yuuri’s Russian was still pretty shoddy. He stopped trying to eavesdrop and instead focused his attention on the wonderful ride.

The cold air and excitement, along with the frozen beauty of the city, was truly a wonderful band aid. And most importantly to Yuuri, Victor was pressed close against him, wrapped in furs, held tightly in Yuuri’s embrace, solid and warm and safe, his cheeks and the tip of his nose flushed by the cold, his eyes brighter than they had been in days, his breath fogging the air, as he took in the winter scenery of Pavlovsk Park flying by.

 


	8. Russian Green

 

Russian Green

 

The hospital doctors had prescribed rest; Maya had suggested them an outing; at this point Yuuri felt like any advice was good advice. Victor hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences to him, born out of necessity, since their emotional discussion in the hospital earlier. He allowed Yuuri to lead him around, this way and that – discharge him from the hospital, take him on a sled ride, then for a long walk with Makkachin. The dog had greeted Victor enthusiastically, and Victor had hugged him tightly, face buried in his fur.

In the clear light of the afternoon, Victor’s pale complexion looked porcelain glazed. Sometimes Yuuri caught himself watching Victor like he couldn’t believe the Russian man didn’t step right out of some fairytale. But now, even though he was still moved by Victor’s ethereal beauty, Yuuri anxiously wondered what dark thoughts lurked underneath this perfect exterior, what might Victor do or say next that would bring Yuuri’s world crashing to the ground. He never thought he might come to regret Victor being surprising. Yuuri would gladly spend his entire life in utter boredom if that meant Victor would never surprise him like this again.

 

“Can I trust you?” Yuuri asked him straightforwardly over dinner.

Victor was dipping his spoon into the borscht slowly, bringing it to his mouth and swallowing carefully, as if afraid he was going to get sick again. Yuuri would deem it a good day if he could count 10 sips. Apparently today was not a good day, but then again Yuuri knew that already.

On hearing Yuuri’s words, Victor paused and looked up at him, tired blue eyes meeting chocolate ones.

“I have to sleep”, Yuuri clarified. “I can force myself to keep awake for a while, but I will have to sleep eventually. And I need to know that I won’t wake up to see you passed out on the bathroom floor again. O-or possibly dead.”

Victor sighed.

“You can trust me, Yuuri”, he confirmed, sadly. “You can sleep without worries.”

Yuuri still regarded him doubtfully:

“Can I?” he wondered out loud.

Victor shrugged:

“I wouldn’t be so boring as to try the same thing again.” He lifted an eyebrow slightly, challenging Yuuri to either get mad or laugh.

Yuuri huffed, shaking his head.

“Besides, I’m exhausted”, Victor continued. “You took me traipsing all over town, it’s been a while since I got so much exercise and so much fresh air.”

“Great”, Yuuri said. “If that’s what it takes, I’ll make sure to exhaust you every day”, he said, then blushed furiously at the implication.

“Oh, Yuuri~”, Victor said, on a teasing note Yuuri hadn’t heard from him in ages. “You’re so precious. Did I ever tell you this, what a little treasure you are? You wonderful, lovely man. My Yuuri.”

“Huh, uh, e-eat your borscht before it gets cold, Victor”, Yuuri mumbled.

Victor smiled in genuine delight watching Yuuri’s blush deepen to crimson.

 

Despite Victor’s promise, Yuuri was still afraid to fall asleep that night. His fingers trailed nonsensical patterns on Victor’s back, as he held him close.

Then those patterns stopped being nonsensical as the game began to amuse him. He drew a sun – that was easy, then a stick figure dog. A house.

‘Victor’, he wrote, ‘Yuuri.’

Yuuri shifted a little so his fingers could reach further and wrote in the dip between Victor’s shoulder blades:

‘Yuuri loves Victor.’

He pressed his palm over the imagined writing and closed his eyes. Victor stirred in the tight circle of Yuuri’s arms and scraped one nail lightly on Yuuri’s chest. Getting Yuuri’s attention, Victor then proceeded to write on Yuuri’s chest, nail still scratching, as if he wanted to leave an imprint: ‘Victor loves Yuuri more’ – followed by three hearts. Yuuri couldn’t quite repress a chuckle. It was reassuring to note that Victor still remained extra. Yuuri left a lingering kiss on the top of Victor’s head and abandoned himself to sleep.

 

Yuuri’s love and proximity wasn’t quite enough to keep Victor’s nightmares at bay, but Yuuri knew by now not to take anything for granted. He got up, made Victor a cup of tea and caressed his hair while Victor took a few sips of the hot fragrant brew.

“Done?” Yuuri asked, when Victor pushed the cup aside.

Victor nodded and Yuuri finished the tea himself, then climbed into bed beside Victor, cuddling him close.

“Mmmm, you’re so warm”, Yuuri said, sighing happily. Then he noticed Victor was staring at him with a strange expression, and asked: “Victor, what is it?”

“I still have no idea what I did to deserve you”, Victor mumbled.

“Hmm, I don’t know”, Yuuri pretended to ponder seriously. “Did you eat your veggies when you were little?”

“Mhhh. Sometimes.”

“There you go, then.” Yuuri bent and kissed the downturned corner of Victor’s mouth gently. “Sleep, love.”

 

Maya arrived the next day at 5 pm sharp, and Yuuri invited her into the living room, made her a cup of coffee and took out the box of biscuits.

“These are Victor’s favorites”, he told her. “They’re quite good. I hope you like them. ... Aaand this is Makkachin.”

“...Oh!”

The dog had flip-flopped over to sniff curiously at the newcomer, and when she patted his head affectionately, he jumped on her with his usual enthusiasm.

“No, Makka”, Yuuri said, using his stern voice, one which Victor could never manage when it came to his dog. “Down, boy!”

“Please, you didn’t have to bother yourself with all this”, she said, gesturing at the coffee and biscuits.

“It’s no bother at all. Well, I’ll get out of your way now. I have to go and restock on food. We’re almost out of – well, everything really. I’ll leave you two to it, give you some privacy.”

Yuuri checked Victor for a reaction, as he spoke about going out. Victor sat on the sofa, curled in on himself, with the expression of someone who would soon be led in front of the execution squad.

Yuuri couldn’t refrain himself from enveloping him in a warm lingering hug.

“It will be alright, Victor”, Yuuri whispered into Victor’s hair. “Please. Be good.”

“I’m doing this for you, Yuuri”, Victor whispered back.

“And I’m so grateful. I love you so much. I’ll see you soon.”

 

~

“How are you feeling today, Victor?”

“Fine.”

“Now, now. _Fine_ is a word thrown around much too quickly these days. Few of us are indeed ‘fine’, but we’re expected to say we are because it’s polite. I’m interested in the truth behind the word.”

“What do you mean?”

“What does ‘fine’ mean – in relation to how you felt yesterday, or how you felt three months ago?”

Victor stared at her like she sprouted two heads.

“Well, obviously I feel _less fine_ than I did three months ago.”

“Do you mind if I ask a number of specific questions, so I can establish a baseline of what ‘less fine than three months ago’ actually means?”

“Go ahead. You’re the expert.”

“Alright. Please try to be as specific as possible in your answers as well, especially when it comes to the frequency. Have you had more headaches than usual, this past week?”

“Yes. Yuuri says it’s because I don’t eat properly and I don’t sleep enough.”

“So, insomnia, and loss of apetite, too?

“Yes. All day every day.”

“Stomach problems?”

“What little I eat, I throw up more often than not. So yeah.”

“Sexual problems?”

“Be more specific.”

“Low sex drive, or the opposite - sexual overactivity.... feeling unsatisfied with your sex life, bad thoughts or feelings during sex...”

“I – Hm, this will sound ridiculous but Yuuri and I... we haven’t....our relationship so far somehow hasn’t included the hmm... sexual –“

“You mean penetrative sex”, Maya provided helpfully.

“Yes.”

“That’s fine and not at all weird, I assure you. Some couples for whatever reason never have intercourse, and are content with non-sexual intimacy.”

“It’s not – it’s not that we haven’t been _wanting to_ , at least I’ve been wanting to, and I suspect he did too, but it’s just that there were competitions to prepare for and Yuuri needed to be in top form, and also, I guess both of us wanted to wait until it could be special, you know, and not rushed”, Victor ended somewhat defiantly, as if half expecting a derogatory remark.

“I understand.” Maya nodded; her smile was sad and sympathetic.

“But now of course”, Victor began, then stopped abruptly.

“Yes?”

“....Nothing”, Victor said. “Nothing, I don’t know. Forget it.”

Noticing Victor was getting distressed, Maya relented.

“All right. Let’s continue, then. Tell me, Victor, have you experienced the feeling that things are ‘unreal’ and if so, how often?”

Victor’s breath caught in his throat.

“How did....how did you know about that? That’s what I’ve been feeling ever since this whole thing started!”

“So, frequently, then. How about the feeling that you are not always in your body!”

“Yes!” Victor cried again, bewildered. “Like, I’m watching everything on a tv screen and I can’t change the channel!”

“Spacing out?”

“What does that mean?”

“Going away in your mind – tuning everything out.”

“Yes, whenever I manage it. It still feels like I’m not managing it often enough.”

“Flashbacks? Sudden, vivid, distracting memories that you _can’t_ shut out?”

“Sometimes”, Victor shuddered.

“Nightmares?”

“All the time”, Victor whispered. “They’re the hardest to bear, I think. Please, if you want to help me, give me something for the nightmares.”

Maya continued to question him while making notes and Victor felt increased bewilderment as he only had to nod fervently when, inevitably, more often than not, Maya somehow had just the words for describing his emotions and thoughts – things that Victor hadn’t even told Yuuri about, that he wouldn’t have told him, because they were too upsetting.

“... Dizziness... Trouble controlling your temper? Uncontrollable crying? Having trouble breathing? Not feeling rested in the morning? Trouble getting along with others...? Desire to physically hurt yourself? Unnecessary or over-frequent washing? Feeling tense all the time? Sadness? Feelings of inferiority? Feelings of guilt?”

“It’s like....you know everything about me....!” Victor couldn’t help but blurt out. “How? Does that mean you can help me?”

“I do hope I can help you. As for the ‘know everything about you”, Maya smiled sadly, “I just ran you through the trauma symptom checklist. “You scored very high on the dissociation, depression and sexual abuse trauma scale, moderately high on the anxiety scale, and moderate on the sleep disturbance scale. I’ve written them all down, with today’s date. And hopefully, in the months ahead, we’ll run them into the ground where they belong.”

There was a small silence, broken only by Makkachin, who climbed onto the couch, where he settled with a satisfied sigh.

Maya leaned forward.

“You see, Victor – the sad reality is that all over the world, there are many people going through the sort of thing you went through, that many people in fact, that it allowed us to come up with checklists and labels and words to fit their feelings and emotions, because ultimately, we all react pretty much the same after a trauma. So I wouldn’t presume to know everything about you, and I don’t need to, either - but I do know a little about what you’re going through. I won’t belittle what happened to you by assuming that your mental scars would heal as fast as your physical injuries.”

Victor drew his sleeves self-consciously over his wrists, where the purple bruises still lingered.

“Look, I don’t – just what do you think hap-“

“You were raped”, Maya stated matter-of-factly and Victor flinched.

“That wasn’t me”, Victor whispered.

Maya tapped with her pencil the line in her notebook that said ‘Dissociation: 18/18’

“It’s difficult for you to reconcile this with your image of yourself. But you need to stop relating this event so strongly to who you are, and try to find some detachment from it. It happened, but it doesn’t define you. It happened, but it doesn’t dictate any moment of your life, it doesn’t influence any decision you make.”

Victor remained silent.

“It’s difficult, I know”, Maya repeated. “You have a long road ahead, but we’ll walk it together, and we’ll get there in the end.”

“There?”

“Yes. Where all this will be only a bad memory – like falling on a quad, then getting up to continue your program as if that fall hadn’t happened, and be so much your dazzling self that the judges themselves forget about that fall.”

Victor frowned.

“But that’s not right”, Victor said. “The judges shouldn’t forget about my fall, regardless of how well I do after! That’s like cheating! Or like the judges are biased! And that shouldn’t happen!”

Maya paused, a little taken aback with his outburst and studied him searchingly, as she pondered his words.

“That’s true”, she said carefully, uncertain as to why Victor was reacting so strongly to what she figured was a harmless skating metaphor to put him at ease. “It’s not okay if judges are biased.”

“Because like”, Victor shifted on the couch, as he went on, gesturing wildly, “If I fall, I mustn’t get high marks, no matter what I do afterwards! Not higher than someone who didn’t fall! That shouldn’t happen!”

Maya frowned, as she tried to process this.

“We will return to this discussion. I think this deserves to be talked about at length, because it appears to be something you feel very strongly about and I want to understand it well. But I couldn’t help noticing how you used a lot of ‘should’ and ‘must’ all of a sudden. Generally speaking, that’s a thing that gets between us and a happy life – thinking some things ‘should’ or ‘must’ happen; or that we ‘must’/’should’ be in a certain way. Life rarely works out as it _should_ or _ought to_ , and thinking in absolutes will make you unhappy or confused, when your expectations aren’t met.”

Victor pondered this for a while in silence, while Maya helped herself to a biscuit.

“But sometimes things just _aren’t right,”_ he said eventually, a petulant note in his voice.

“That’s true”, Maya nodded. “And sometimes there’s nothing we can do about that.”

Victor frowned at the lightness in her tone, lapsing again into silence as he considered this. Maya unhurriedly sipped at her coffee, allowing him time to process this. Nothing we can do about that – these words should sound ominous, not... liberating. Victor tried to imagine a situation where ‘nothing we can do about that’ warranted no more than a carefree shrug in answer. Maybe when it snowed so much overnight that one couldn’t get to the rink on time, and Yakov would call him, pissed about why he was late, and he’d say ‘Yakov, did you look outside? I can’t just shovel through 5 meters of snow, there’s nothing I can do about that, but wait for the snow-clearing machine.” That would work. He couldn’t really envision another situation.

“These biscuits are really tasty, you know”, he heard Maya say. “I can see why they’re your favorites.”

Makkachin eased closer to Maya on the couch, and plopped his snout on her leg, looking up at her plaintively, expecting a treat.

“Oooh. I can see why you’re Victor’s favorite, too!”

 

~

“No, no!” Yuri screamed, palms held out in front of him. “Don’t fucking come any closer, Katsudon!”

Yuuri froze, one foot inside the room, hand still on the handle.

“What is it?” he panicked.

“I didn’t have chickenpox!”

“What??” Yuuri’s overwhelmed mind fought to process this statement.

“If Victor has it, you probably have it too. Or you’re a carrier! And I didn’t have it, I’m not immune! I don’t wanna get sick now, not when I finally got permission to leave the stupid bed next week!”

“I thought you weren’t allowed on ice till April”, Yuuri replied.

“On ice, yeah! Doesn’t mean I have to spend the time until then in bed!”

“Fair enough, but listen, Yurio, I don’t have chickenpox. I – I had it when I was a child. Not a carrier, I promise.”

“Huh. If I see one single blister....”

“You won’t.”

“How on earth did the old geezer get it, anyway?”

“We still don’t know. We’re trying to find out.”

“Haa? It’s not like someone infected him on purpose. Or wait, do you think someone did? Huhhh, that would be wild. Just to get a chance at gold at Europeans, you suppose? Except they miscalculated the incubation period.... by only a day, haha”, Yuri chuckled. “Sucks to be them. Victor still got the gold. Might even be good to go by the time the Worlds roll in.”

Yuuri doubted it, but remained silent.

“What’s with the mourning face, Katsudon? It’s just chickenpox, for gods sake. I’m sure for Victor it’s an excuse to throw tantrums and get you to rub his feet and bring him breakfast in bed.”

“...Yeah. Hey, Yurio – if – hm. Let’s go a little with that crazy theory you just had. Who do you think could’ve done it?”

Yuri’s mouth fell open.

“Wait, you _actually_ think someone-?”

“No, I don’t think someone did, since I just called it ‘your crazy theory’, didn’t I?”

“Huh, it’s a good thing I’m bedridden. Otherwise I bet it’s me you would’ve accused-“

“Don’t be ridiculous, Yuri. Do you have access to labs?”

“Why would I have access to labs?”

“How else would you get the chickenpox virus?”

“So you’re looking for people with access to labs?”

“No! Look - just forget about the chickenpox for a minute, Yuri... Who do you think would want to hurt Victor?”

“There’s something you’re not telling me, Katsudon”, Yuri snarled. “You better tell me right now or-“

“Or what?” Yuuri couldn’t help teasing. “You’re not allowed to get out of bed to kick my ass this time.”

“I swear, I don’t care if this sets my rehab back weeks, I’ll get up right now and punch you in the face.”

“Please don’t. Yakov will be so mad at me.”

Yuri’s face twisted in a shrewd expression.

“I believe you asked me a question earlier. If you want an answer to that question, then you’ll have to spill the beans on everything.”

“How do I know you actually have something relevant to say?”

“Because there _is_ a name which springs to mind in answer to your question: _Who would want to hurt Victor_.”

Yuuri thought for a moment.

“Yeah, but it’s just a guess, isn’t it.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe Victor told me things during his visits. Maybe I remembered something useful.”

Yuuri sighed.

“Look, Yurio – I really would rather not tell you.”

“Then I guess I’ll keep my knowledge to myself as well.”

“How can you be so heartless?”

“Me??! You’re the heartless one, Katsudon, keeping secrets and lying to the world! Victor doesn’t have chickenpox, does he – you as good as admitted it! But someone did hurt him, otherwise you wouldn’t be asking around like in those bad cop shows ‘do you know who would want to hurt Victor?’ Haa, that’s not even very transparent! And you dare say to me, _me_ of all people, Katsudon, that you’d rather not tell me what happened?”

Yuuri rubbed his temples, Yuri’s angry voice was giving him a headache. He lifted up his hands in entreaty to get him to quiet down, but Yuri just went on, getting progressively more enraged:

“How fucking dare you? You think you’re the only one with a right to know? Do you think you own Victor?? I’ve known Victor longer than you did, you hear me? I have the right to know about him, and if you don’t tell me right now, I’ll call Yakov and tell him you’re _hiding things_...”

“Yakov knows, Yurio.”

“Huhhhhh?!”

Yuri’s face fell, and eventually settled in a supremely displeased frown. Yuuri suspected he felt betrayed even more by the fact that Yakov had chosen not to tell him.

“You’re not the only one who cares about Victor, you know”, he said, fiercely. “I have a right to know”, he repeated.

Yuuri remained silent.

“He came to see me after my accident, several times a week”, Yuri said eventually, his voice lowered, picking at his blanket, morosely. “The others came too, Georgi, Mila, but Victor was the only one who talked to me about skating. It made me feel good, that he cared enough to visit me and that he didn’t treat me like a child. I always looked up to him, that’s no secret, even though I don’t advertise it so much, like _you do_ ”, he couldn’t help a jab at Yuuri. “I couldn’t wait to compete against him. But if he stopped competing for good.... I wouldn’t think any less of him. I know I made it seem like I would, but – I wouldn’t, not really. It is what it is and Victor.... he – well, I suppose he means more to me than a rival. Will you tell him that, Katsudon?”

Yuuri finally realized that Yuri had reached on his own the conclusion that Victor had a career-ending injury. It was the obvious conclusion Yuri had drawn from the timing, Yuuri and Yakov’s reluctance to talk about it, the suggestion that someone might be behind it, the secrecy, it all would’ve fallen into place for Yuri. Especially if one already had skating injuries on their mind. The question was, would Yuuri allow Yuri to continue thinking along those lines. Watching Yuri’s pinched, strained expression, it seemed almost crueler to let him go on believing that. He remembered how offended and angry Yuri had been when Yuuri had wanted to retire after the GPF. But would the truth be any better? Yuuri wanted to protect Yuri but he also desperately wanted to know more. The idea that Victor might have let something slip during his visits, something that might lead Yuuri to the person responsible for hurting Victor, was too much of a temptation. But meanwhile, Yuri seemed to have reached his own decision.

“Victor did mention someone who was a bully, and liked to intimidate his opponents. Victor acknowledged this guy was good, but didn’t want to talk about him, even when I asked.”

Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat.

“Who was it?” he managed.

“Katusudon, look, this may all be a misunderstanding. I mean, I myself have ---“

“... tried to intimidate your opponents?” Yuuri finished for him.

He remembered their bathroom encounter at the GP two years ago and smiled sadly.

“This isn’t like this.”

“Katsudon”, Yuri hissed. “ _What happened to Victor?”_

“Who was it, Yurio? Tell me his name”, Yuuri insisted.

“Stop fucking calling me Yurio.”

“Sorry. Please tell me.”

Yuri sighed.

“Uh, no. I’m not a snitch. And it may be entirely the wrong lead. I mean, if _you_ were to tell _me_ exactly what happened to Victor, then I could see if the information I have fits, and....“

Yuuri wasn’t going to tell him. He really had the best intentions of keeping this from the young Russian in order to protect him. But his younger opponent always seemed to get the better of him, one way or another. Yuuri became so frustrated that he wanted nothing more than to replace the teenager’s mask of contrary arrogance with something more genuine. So the next words which came out of Yuuri’s mouth were sharp and cruel in their shocking simplicity, as he cut across Yuri’s speech:

“Victor was raped.”

Yuuri had the momentary satisfaction of seeing Yuri’s face fall, the mask slipping out of place, leaving behind only shock and disbelief.

“W-what?” he stammered, in Russian.

“Victor won gold at the Europeans, as you already know”, then, the very same night, someone attacked him”, Yuuri clarified, but he didn’t stop there. Despite his initial reluctance, he now found himself going into an abundance of hurtful detail. “I found him on the floor of the bathroom in the very same venue, after I’d been calling him for hours. He was still wearing his costume. I keep thinking about that costume, you know. It was resplendent, I don’t know if you’ve seen it – did you watch his performance? Well, Victor really loved it and he looked fantastic in it. It opened at the back – it had a long zipper and... It’s ridiculous but it makes me so mad to think of that faceless someone unzipping Victor’s costume and forcing himself on him, only to zip it back up when he was done, leaving Victor on the bathroom floor. It makes me so mad I wanna punch through a wall, Yurio.”

Yuri gulped, staring wide-eyed.

“It was so cold in that bathroom, my heart breaks to think how long Victor’s been there, alone and hurt. He had the bag with the change of clothes with him, right there. He had the keys to the car. So why didn’t he go to the locker room and change, and then come home to me? He just sat there, on the floor of the bathroom, shivering, god knows for how long. Until I finally found him.”

“Stop”, Yuri whispered, strangled. “Just fucking stop talking.” He frowned a little, in childish incredulity, then asked: “D-did Victor tell you what happened?”

“I thought you wanted me to stop talking. Well, no. Victor’s still in denial about what happened. I took him to the hospital, and when they took off his costume for his checkup, it became obvious. There was blood between his legs and he had bruises on his wrists, hips and thighs, and a large bruise at the small of his back. Also there were the bite marks. And his eyes, Yuri - his beautiful blue eyes, they were lifeless.”

Yuri shuddered.

“Who would-“

“Exactly. Who would?” Yuuri prodded. “Tell me the name of that bully Victor told you about.”

“Fucking hell”, Yuri breathed. “I just... I haven’t met the man myself and I just can’t believe one of our own would....”

“Yurio”, Yuuri smiled, a twisted sad grimace. “It’s funny, I was just talking to Yakov yesterday and he accused me of seeing the skating world through rosy tinted glasses. It never would have occured to me that you’re also one who sees it like that.”

Yuri swallowed, quietly digesting what he no doubt perceived as an insult.

“The point is,” Yuuri continued, more gently, “there are bad people in the world, Yuri. I’m sure you know it, I’m sure your grandpa warned you about them. There’s bad people in any line of business.”  

“Are you sure it couldn’t be a crazy stalker fan? I mean, Victor has plenty of admirers and some are off their rocker, surely.”

Yuuri tsked.

“Who do you know that's off their rocker?"

Yuri momentarily looked like he wanted to reply with another dig at Yuuri, but then managed to hold himself back with what looked like a supreme effort.

“Well, I can remember of at least one, and I witnessed it, too. It was back when Victor still had his long hair. I was a kid back then, only just moved to St Petersburg to train with Yakov, but I remember it well, because it was shocking. One day, we were all at the rink and this guy came in and attacked Victor with a scissors. At least that's how it looked like. Everyone screamed, and the guy was quickly subdued, and Victor wasn't hurt, so it turned out all right. You never knew about this?”

Yuuri shook his head no, bewildered.

“Yeah, well, I probably made it sound worse than it was. Turns out the guy only wanted a lock of Victor’s hair, and decided to go right at the source for it.” Yuri snorted and rolled his eyes. “Anyway, Yakov was livid and wanted to send the lunatic straight to jail, but Victor just laughed and said he didn’t want to press charges, because the poor guy was obviously mentally challenged. Yakov did get a restraining order though, and I think the dude ended up in a psych ward or something.”

Yuuri stared in bewilderment, trying to process this new information. Everyone else knows more than I do about my fiance, he thought bitterly. A part of him knew he was being unfair, thinking along those lines - this was a random incident from Victor's past, so random and meaningless that it didn't even make the papers at that time, and Victor probably hardly remembered it. But in that moment, even something like this gathered epic proportions for Yuuri, who ran hot and cold, feeling equally possessive and protective of Victor.

“What else?” he asked coldly.

“Huh?”

“Have there been other incidents like this that I don’t know about?”

“No”, Yuri answered, a little too quickly in Yuuri’s opinion.

“Yurio, now is not the time to lie to me”, Yuuri answered, eyes flashing.

“Calm the fuck down. No, alright? No. Nothing like this, nothing like what’s happened to him now.”

Yuuri shook his head. He had been so convinced  that the person who hurt Victor couldn’t have been a fan, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Meanwhile, Yuri’s thoughts had drifted in another direction.

“How about one of those sponsors?” the teenager said. “They give me the creeps, some of them do. Dirty old men, leering at you while signing huge endorsement deals for you like they _own_ you. Ugh. Yakov says I should always act nice with them but tell him immediately if they start to get too familiar. You know the type, right?”

Yuuri did know the type, having come across it himself. He frowned, and pinched his forehead, trying to think.

“No”, he finally decided. “If one of those people really wanted to have this way with Victor, he wouldn’t have done it like this, not risking exposure at a world class event, in a public bathroom.”

“Oh, and you think a fellow skater would?”

“It’s just, the more I think about it, the more I become convinced that this was a spur of the moment kind of thing. Whoever did this, didn’t plan it. It was impulsive.”

“Wow ok, Sherlock Holmes, that’s an impressive deduction, with absolutely nothing to back it up but whatever. It still doesn’t narrow it down one bit though. Like I said, there's plenty of weirdos out there, and I'm sure they'd jump at the opportunity to fuck around with Victor, if they got the chance.”

“That’s just it though – it does narrow it down – from the people who, like you say ‘would like to fuck around with Victor’ to those who would actually go through with something like this, without Victor's consent. You’re assuming this is only about sexual desire.”

“Well, and isn't it??”

“Not significantly. Maybe a little yes - a perverted sort of desire, but more importantly, it's largely to do with hate. And humiliation.”

Yuri didn’t answer, worrying at his lips with his teeth as he pondered something. Yuuri remained quiet, sensing that Yuri would soon spill the beans.

“Please”, Yuuri said, quietly but firmly, “tell me the name of that bully Victor told you about.”

“Andrey Sarychev”, Yuri finally replied. “Victor said he was an insufferable guy, who liked to bully his opponents by being a jerk. Victor wouldn’t tell me exactly how this guy went about intimidating people, even though I was curious. But I could tell, Victor was rattled by him. It was strange because, usually when Victor doesn’t like someone, he just goes ahead and ignores them completely. Always thought that was smart about him. But with this guy, it was like he couldn’t stop thinking about him. He got to Victor in ways that others didn’t.”

And just like that, all of a sudden – it all clicked into place for Yuuri.

He didn’t need to talk to anyone else after all.

Now he understood everything.

Victor’s insecurity, his dislike of Sarychev, his insistence that he didn’t deserve the first place.

Victor going off in a huff after the medal ceremony, and Yuuri _letting him go._

Just shyly getting out of Victor’s way, because it seemed that Victor needed space and Yuuri wasn’t about to intrude on him.

And so Victor went off, and Sarychev went after him, no doubt angry that he was once again robbed of the gold he felt he deserved. Now that he could put a face to the attacker, Yuuri saw it in his mind’s eye all too vividly. Sarychev cornering Victor in the bathroom, Victor trying to fight him, but Sarychev, with his impressive physique, would have been able to overpower Victor easily, hold him down....it would have been Sarychev’s beefy hands pulling down the zipper of Victor’s costume... Did Victor beg him to stop, only to be ignored? Did he call for help? Did he call for Yuuri?

Yuuri gasped as if in pain, belatedly realizing that if only...if only... if only he’d stayed, if only he’d made Victor tell him exactly what was wrong.

But Victor could be so stubborn sometimes, and so hell bent on not showing any weakness.... would he have confessed everything to Yuuri, even if Yuuri asked? Or would the inevitable just have been delayed?

Yuuri rubbed at his eyes, trying to force angry tears back.

Yuri watched him anxiously.

“Are you alright, Katsudon?” he asked, hesitantly.

“Hah”, Yuuri hiccuped. “Listen Yuri”, he said, using the teenager’s name instead of his disliked nickname, to get his attention, “you don’t have to always put on a brave face. Sometimes it’s okay to let others know you need their help and support.”

“What the hell are you lecturing me for, Katsudon? Are you out of your mind?”

“It just seems to me that you and Victor are very similar when it comes to this. It’s awesome to have confidence and I will always admire that in the both of you, especially seeing as I lack it. It’s alright to see yourself as larger than life, but it’s also alright to be vulnerable and tell the people you love what’s bothering you.”

“Right, I’ll keep that in mind, thank you for the random and totally unsolicited advice”, Yuri rolled his eyes. “Are you somehow trying to imply that this was Victor’s fault?”

Yuuri sighed in acute frustration.

“Of course it wasn’t Victor’s fault”, he answered, patiently. “It was my fault, because I wasn’t there with him. I left him, I gave him the space I imagined he needed. He wasn’t satisfied with his win, you see.”

“Huhh??” Yuri reacted, almost as shocked as when he found out what happened to Victor. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

“He felt like he hadn’t been good enough.”

“What does it matter? He won, so who cares?”

“Well, he did apparently. But now I’m thinking...that someone got to him.” Yuuri took a deep breath and rephrased. “Sarychev got to him. He’d been telling him things, stuff that slowly wormed away at his confidence.”

Yuri actually laughed.

“At _Victor’_ s confidence? Never! Victor was always the most insufferably arrogant guy I’ve ever met. Well, I mean, apart from JJ.”

“It just goes to show, that even the most confident of people can be made to feel worthless”, Yuuri shrugged.

“So what you’re saying is that this Sarychev guy did all this in order to win?”

“Yes.”

“That’s disgusting. It makes me _sick_.”

Yuuri nodded.

“I mean, I still somehow can’t believe it, but  - fuck. Is there going to be an inquiry?”

“Yakov doesn’t want any of this known. Not that he knows who’s responsible, but he doesn’t want what happened to Victor advertised. And Victor doesn’t want to press charges. Actually, Victor hasn’t spoken at all about this.”

“Bullshit! I never took him for such a weakling! Why did I tell you the guy’s name, then, huh? So you can sneak out at night and let the air out of his tires? The Skating Federation needs to know about this and the guy has to be kicked out of the ISU and put in jail where he belongs.”

“You’re right. I just need to figure out a way to do this without involving Victor.”

Yuri snorted.

“Or Victor needs to grow a pair and actually try to deal with—“

“Shut up”, Yuuri interrupted him so fiercely, that Yuri actually flinched. “You don’t know _everything_ about Victor, so _shut up_.”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed.

“I told you, Katsudon, I’ve known Victor longer than you have, you don’t have a monopoly on caring about him!”

“Oh, so you care about Victor?” Yuuri sneered. “Could have fooled me, because you’re certainly not showing it.”

“You shouldn’t be the only one deciding things when it comes to Victor”, Yuri answered, ignoring the obvious bait. “Will you tell Yakov what I told you?”

“Yakov and I have discussed things”, Yuuri answered shortly. “And we will continue to discuss things.”

“Oh, so you’re leaving me out of the loop, is it? I’m the one who gave you the most important information!”

“Yes and thank you very much for that,” Yuuri snapped back.

They eyed each other with barely suppressed hostility for a while, until it suddenly dawned on Yuuri that he was acting just as childishly as the teenager, if not more so.

He groaned.

“Look, Yuri, I’m sorry, I’m a bit high strung these days. I have to go now. But I’ll come visit you again, and keep you in the loop, as you say. I promise.”

“Huh”, Yuri reacted, with the implication that he didn’t hold out much hope.

Yuuri put his hand on the teenager’s skinny shoulder and squeezed lightly.

“Be well. I’ll be seeing you.”

“Yeah, alright. Hey, do you think you could bring Victor along next time you visit?”

Yuuri hesitated.

“I don’t know”, he answered honestly. “Perhaps not next time, but maybe in a little while. And hopefully soon you’ll be well enough to visit us yourself.”

Yuri sniffed.

“Yeah sure”, he said, and waved Yuuri off. "Get out of here now, I'm sure there's someplace else you'd rather be."

 


	9. Chocolate Brown

 

Chocolate Brown

 

Yuuri barely saw anything in front of him as he walked home, thoughts whirling inside his head. He was still distracted when he reached the front door and fumbled with the key. Inside, Maya was taking her leave of Victor and Makkachin.

“Ah, Yuuri’s here!” she said cheerfully, then broke off at the look on Yuuri’s face. “Everything alright?” she asked him, quietly.

“Yeah, yeah! Everything ok!” Yuuri bowed slightly, out of habit. “I’m sorry if I was away too long!”

“That’s fine, we were just finishing up here. See you on Monday, Victor! Good bye, Yuuri.”

With one last long look at Yuuri, which appeared to say ‘I know something’s up, even if you don’t want to tell me’, she stepped outside.

“So. How was it?” Yuuri asked, opening his arms as Victor quickly moved into a hug, as if they had been apart for two days instead of two hours.

“It was alright, actually,” Victor said with a small smile. “I like Maya, and talking to her isn’t a burden like I expected it to be.”

“Good”, Yuuri sighed in relief. “I’m glad.”

“Yuuri”, Victor frowned, stepping back. “You didn’t bring anything.”

“Huh?” Yuuri said, eloquently.

“You said you were going shopping but you’ve got nothing!”

“Ohh...right. Well, I decided to take a walk instead. I visited Yuri”, he said, deciding to be honest. “He told me he’ll be allowed out of bed soon. Maybe we’ll visit him together next time. And now, we can go shopping together, if you feel up to it.”

Victor looked at the darkness outside with an unsettled expression.

“Uh....how about we... go tomorrow....morning, instead?”

“That’s fine,” Yuuri quickly agreed. “Let me see what I can scrape together for dinner.”

 

That night, after Victor had fallen asleep, Yuuri left the bed, careful not to wake him, went to his laptop and googled ‘Andrey Sarychev’. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t find a home address, but found his skating club and coach. He saved the information in his phone.

He also found several interviews, youtube videos, a wikipedia page, and even a few fan pages. He looked across at Victor, who was still sleeping soundly, and went to make himself a cup of tea, then settled in to read everything he could find.

One recent interview caught his eye with its clickbait title: _‘Andrey Sarychev, our up and coming Russian star, tells us why he isn’t like everyone else’._ Yuuri rolled his eyes and read on:

<<. _With the shocking and sad injury of our Grand Prix champion, Yuri Plisetsky, who, after a dazzling senior debut, had his way paved to the Europeans, there was a new opening on the national team, and one ambitious young man was quick to take advantage of it. With his brilliant performance at the Nationals, Andrey Sarychev (22) secured his spot on the Russian team for the European Championships, set to take place 17-21 January in Moscow. Our reporters have met with the promising young skater, to ask him whether he’s up for the challenge._

_“Figure skating is a tough sport”, Andrey told us, right off the bat. “Some people dismiss it as just dancing around on ice. But there’s more about it than looking pretty in a flashy costume. I want to change people’s perception of this sport, and hopefully get them to take it more seriously!”_

_With his muscular built, speaking of years of extensive resistance training, Andrey Sarychev does seem like just the man for the job. But how exactly does this determined young man intend to go about it?_

_“Well, by levelling all my competition to the ground, of course”, he laughs. “Showing I’m better than all of them.”_

_Even our national hero, living legend Victor Nikiforov, who has recently announced his return to competitive skating after half a year’s absence?_

_“I especially look forward to crushing him”, comes the bold reply. “I’m more than capable of it.”_

_Further questioning reveals that Andrey used to be a fan of Nikiforov, so he knows exactly what he’s up against._

_‘Oh, I was really star-struck’, the young skater laughs as he remembers fondly. ‘Used to have posters of him up in my room when I was a teenager. But that was just a phase. You can’t go far in life under someone’s shadow. I’m my own man now, and my time has come.”_

_Turning teenage worship into friendly rivalry. That’s the way to go._

_‘That’s right’, Andrey nods, with a grin._ >>

Wrong, Yuuri thinks. I don’t think you ever stopped being obsessed with Victor. His initial impression of Sarychev shifted, now Yuuri was sure that there was more to it than hatred and anger at not winning the gold medal that spurred Sarychev on. There was something sickening to Yuuri about the fact that he had been Victor’s fan. Sarychev seemed to have genuinely tried to overcome his attraction and infatuation with Victor, perhaps thinking it was a weakness, but found himself unable to do it. Instead, coupled with the frustration he felt at his plans being thwarted, it shifted into something so much darker.

Yuuri read through the entire interview, and other interviews he could find, with the same sick fascination one would have when trying to poke at an unknowable and particularly slimy creature which he feared and disliked but perversely wanted to know more about.

He was halfway through a youtube interview where Sarychev dismissed accusations of taking anabolic steroids, wherein he rolled up his sleeves, exposed his arms and invited the interviewer to test him on the spot, when Victor started making distressed noises, thrashing around in bed, a sign that nightmares were plaguing him again. Yuuri shut down the laptop abruptly and rushed over as Victor sat up in bed, eyes shooting open. Yuuri pulled Victor into a tight hug, so abruptly that the wind was knocked out of him, but Victor hugged Yuuri back just as fiercely. It seemed as if Yuuri needed the comfort too, as he held on, even as Victor relaxed in his arms, coming back slowly to himself.

Victor took a deep breath like he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind and sighed, his face burrowing into Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri was still processing what he had read earlier, as he clutched Victor to him, and it took him a while to notice that Victor had fallen asleep again, his head on Yuuri’s shoulder. Arms still wrapped around Victor, he lowered the both of them down to the bed, cradling Victor’s head gently until it reached the pillow. But to Yuuri sleep didn’t come just yet. He was seriously considering the possibility that Sarychev was indeed taking steroids. That would serve to partly explain his aggression and poor impulse control. It was very likely, in Yuuri’s opinion. But then, why didn’t the results come back positive, given the grueling testing all competitive skaters had to go through? Unless Sarychev had only taken them back when he wasn’t that famous to worry about testing, and was too scared to continue taking them when it became clear he’d make the national and european competitions. Yuuri wondered if he could get the ISU interested in an investigation anyway. Victor stirred next to him and Yuuri’s attention shifted back to him.

 _Why do you keep making things difficult for me?_ he thought, gazing sadly at Victor’s sleeping profile, cloaked in darkness. At times, Yuuri could still hardly believe his luck at being allowed into Victor’s world, into his arms, into his bed. _You lovely, impossible man._ _Ever since you came into my life, it’s been such a whirlwind of a crazy dance, I could barely stop for breath. And now – this. This would all be so much simpler if you admitted what happened and testified._

But he knew, he couldn’t ask Victor to do this. It needed to be his decision, not one he was forced into, just so Yuuri could have some closure.

‘It will be alright’, Yuuri murmured, half to himself, half to his sleeping fiance. ‘I’ll find a way.’

 

~

Yakov called early one morning. Yuuri opened one bleary eye and reached for the phone without checking to see who it was.

“Hello,” he mumbled. “Oh, Yakov. Did you want to talk to Victor? He’s right here.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you. As you well know, the Four Continents Championships is in a few days. You haven’t withdrawn so that means you’re set to go. I’m offering to go with you as your temporary coach.”

Yuuri’s mouth fell open.

“I.... It completely slipped my mind, Yakov,” he said, earnestly. “Uh....”

The last thing Yuuri wanted to do was go, especially without Victor. The only reason why he didn’t withdraw was that he had forgotten all about it and his own coach was not exactly in a fit state to remind him.

“I do expect you to come by the rink so we can discuss a plan of attack, if you decide to take up on my offer”, Yakov went on. “You’ve been slacking off.”

 _A plan of attack._ Welcome to the Russian team, Yuuri thought, amused. It sounded like a great deal of fun, but unfortunately, he wasn’t going to do this.

“...Yakov, can I call you back? Uh, better yet, how about we meet? Let’s meet tomorrow at 5 pm, Victor has his session then”, Yuuri said, and gave him the name of a nearby coffeeshop.

Yakov grumbled but he agreed. Yuuri ended the call with a frown and looked across at Victor.

“The Four Continents?” Victor asked.

“Yeah. I’m not going”, Yuuri said, resolutely.

“You have to go”, Victor said weakly.

“You don’t really want me to go.”

“Well, no I don’t, but that’s selfish. You _should_ go”, Victor replied, then smiled bitterly. “Then again, Maya told me not to think in terms of ‘should’, or I’ll end up dissappointed by the unexpected twists and turns of life.”

“I’m not leaving you, and I don’t want to go without you, and that’s final”, Yuuri said, resolutely.

“I could go with you?” Victor said uncertainly, and Yuuri watched him incredulously.

They both knew Victor wasn’t up for that yet.

“I’ll just talk to Yakov and ask him about the withdrawal procedure. Hopefully it isn’t too late. I should’ve thought about it before.”

“It was my job to think about this, Yuuri. I’m your coach. I’m sorry.”

“No, Victor, _I’m_ sorry.”  It’s my fault, Yuuri didn’t say.

 

He did however, say it to Yakov the next day.

“If I hadn’t insisted Victor would return to skating, all this wouldn’t have happened. So it feels unfair if I were to go to the Four Continents without him.”

Yakov stared at him.

“Maybe you need therapy as well”, he commented, sarcastically.

“Maybe I do”, Yuuri agreed, with a sad chuckle.

“Anyway, that’s not really why I wanted to meet, Yakov. I could’ve told you all this over the phone but....there’s something else I want to talk to you about.”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s about what happened to Victor. Remember, I told you back then, I was going to find out what happened.”

He paused momentarily, as he searched for words. He needed to be convincing, he needed Yakov to believe him.

“Well?” Yakov prodded. “Has Vitya said anything?”

“No. Victor still doesn’t want to say who did this to him. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t find out.”

“This means going public with this and that is against Vitya’s wishes.”

“But we can make our investigations, quietly. I don’t think it was a random attack.”

Yakov raised an eyebrow in interest.

“Do you have any suspicions, then?”

“Yes”, Yuuri firmly said. “Yes, I do.” He lowered his voice and whispered fiercely the name that had been haunting him ever since he found out: “Andrey Sarychev.”

Yakov looked stunned.

“What?” he barked. “How do you know? Do you know for sure? How _can_ you know for sure? This is not the sort of accusation you can make against a fellow skater without having some proof.“

“I know enough”, Yuuri replied. “Think about it, Yakov. Remember how unsettled Victor was before the competition ... and during the competition. How insecure he was, how completely unlike his usual self. Remember how many times his acting strange had something to do with Sarychev.”

“It’s true that Vitya hasn’t been his usual self for a while... I chalked it all up to the stress of returning to competition after an absence, and to the stress of coaching and competing... But you’re right”, Yakov mused, “there had been one or two times during the Europeans when I was sure that something was very wrong. I should have insisted more.”

“It’s not your fault”, Yuuri said sadly. “How could you have foreseen this?”

“I should have”, Yakov insisted stubbornly. “I became complacent as Vitya got older, convinced the crisis period had passed when it came to him.”

“The...crisis period?”

“Yeah. There’s always been perverts about, you can’t be too careful, not when you’re coaching young skaters. The younger they are, the bigger the worry”, Yakov said levelly, like imparting a generally known fact of life. “So I was more worried about Yuratchka these past few years, especially since he’s got an exhibitionist streak to rival Victor’s. And of course, he’s at the critical age.”

“Right”, Yuuri frowned. “I’ve already been over this with Yuri, by the way. We’ve discussed the possibility it could’ve been one of those.... ‘perverts’, and we dismissed it because it didn’t seem to fit.”

“And Sarychev fits better?”

“Yakov, I’ve looked him up. I’ve found out stuff about him. Let me tell you.”

“Tell me”, Yakov agreed, albeit skeptically.

“First off, he used to be Victor’s fan. But in recent interviews, he’s acting incredibly dismissive of him, almost rude. There’s something about the way he talks about defeating his opponents that’s personal, much more aggressive than just a competitive thing. And there’s talk that he’s been using anabolic steroids.”

Yakov dismissed that last thing, the piece de resistance of Yuuri’s speech, with a casual wave.

“There’s always talk of this sort with athletes, when someone wants to discredit them. In the absence of proof, we have to assume he’s clean.”

“But surely we can get people interested....”

“Not without actual proof, and not without the risk of getting your own name smeared.”

“Do I think I care about that right now? I want to see him punished! Punished!” Yuuri almost yelled, clenching his fists.

“I understand and appreciate that”, Yakov said, testily. “But really the best thing would be if Vitya would just tell us his name.”

“Oh god, don’t you think I know that?” Yuuri deflated suddenly after his outburst, seemingly close to tears. “But Maya said not to push any discussions on this topic.”

“Is he still seeing the psychologist?”

“Of course. The most important thing for Victor right now is to focus on his recovery. I don’t want to upset him with this.”

“Even so, if you start to make accusations against Sarychev, Vitya will have to testify at one point.”

Yuuri frowned; he hated that Yakov was right.

“Maya said he’s making progress”, he said, quietly.

“And even if he was in a position to testify...”, Yakov shook his head, “the defense lawyers would be ruthless with him. They’d drag his name through the mud, use all the dirty tactics imaginable to save their client. Trials like these are messy around here. I’d hate to see Vitya go through that.”

“Is it any worse than what he’s already gone through?” Yuuri’s voice raising shrilly. “There has to be some justice for what happened!”

“Justice... Oh, Yuuri, you’re so young”, Yakov said, sadly but dismissively. “I feel sorry for you.”

The silence was thick and heavy between them, until Yakov broke it eventually, in a gentler voice than Yuuri had come to expect from him:

“There will be justice for this, Yuuri. I promise. But first we need more proof.”

 

~

“Can you talk to me about what happened that night when Yuuri found you in the bathroom?”

Victor shuddered.

“No”, he said, shaking his head resolutely from one side to the other.

“Alright. Let’s talk about skating then, is that alright?”

Victor frowned, as if he wasn’t particularly keen on that either.

“.... Okay”, he relented.

“How do you feel about your performance at the Europeans?”

“It was awful.”

“Awful is a strong word. Is this one of those cases where you couldn’t settle for anything less than perfect, and as a result you were disappointed?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t just that. It felt like the whole world wanted me to win and was happy to indulge me even if I wasn’t perfect. It was like the gold medal was already mine, all I had to do was show up.”

“How long have you been feeling that, Victor?”

Victor shrugged.

“Not very long. Ever since I decided to came back to skating after I took some time off coaching.”

“I see. And was there anything specific that set off this thought process?”

Victor hesitated.

“Not really.” Then, abruptly, as if wanting to change the subject: “I just wish people would just... let me go.”

“And what would you do if you were ‘let go’?”

“I guess I’d live.”

“Is your fiance one of those people whom you wish they would just let you go?”

“No, Yuuri is ... Yuuri is different.” Victor hesitated, then continued: “Well, he’s different but also not. He has these incredibly high expectations of me that I don’t think I can – no, I’m sure I _can’t meet_. In a way that’s even worse. I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Have you tried talking to him about these things?”

“I can’t. He wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m sure he would try his best, if you explained to him that his expectations are making you unhappy.”

“Now you’re the one who doesn’t understand. He’s always seen me as an idol, someone he aspired to be like. Skating is what brought us together. Our entire relationship is built on that. Our entire relationship is built on me surprising him. If we don’t have that, we don’t have anything.”

“Do you see Yuuri as only a good skater?”

“What? Of course not! But – “

“Are you worried he only sees _you_ as a skater?”

Victor chewed his lip thoughtfully.

“I don’t know. And I’m honestly not sure how to be anything else. I was so excited about being a coach, but truthfully, I sucked at it. Yuuri only agreed to keep me as a coach for another year after he saw how miserable I was when he wanted to end it.

“And still, Yuuri did beautifully while you coached him. He surpassed himself. He broke a World Record – yours in fact.”

“That’s all Yuuri’s merit. He did all that. He had in him all along. I was just there.”

“I think the fact that you were, as you put it – _there_ \- was paramount. You were the one who saw his true potential and you brought it out. Isn’t that what a good coach does?”

Victor shrugged.

“Let’s leave aside the coaching thing for a moment, and return to your feelings about skating. You used to love it, by your own admission. What’s changed?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ve changed. Age finally caught up with me. I’m not as strong. There are others who are ... stronger than me.”

“And if you continue to skate, is it important to prove that you’re still the best?”

“Of course”, Victor frowned. “What’s the use otherwise?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Some would say, for the thrill of it. For the joy of doing what you like, and pitting yourself against others for fun.”

“What? And be like ... a classic car, that’s been outdated by newer, shinier models?”

“That’s an interesting metaphor. Did you only just think of it?”

“... No. No, I’ve had it on my mind for a while.”

“It’s something that’s been bothering you for quite some time, then.”

Victor nodded, then his face twisted, as if it suddenly became too much, keeping all his feelings bottled up. He buried his face into the couch, breaking into sobs. Maya went over to him and ran a comforting arm over his back. Victor half turned and hugged her tightly, still sobbing.

“Shhh. It’s all right. Let it all out”, she murmured, soothingly, as she wrapped her arms around him, rocking him slowly, like a baby.

“What I’m about to tell you now”, Victor hiccuped, still sobbing, “you mustn’t tell Yuuri. Please. _Please_.”

“I promise, Victor. You’ll tell him yourself, in your own time; or you won’t – it’s up to you.”

 

~

“Good morning. I would like to speak to Mr. Nikiforov.”

“This is his fiance, Yuuri Katsuki. Can I help you with anything?”

“We’re calling from the Moscow General Hospital, about the results of the blood tests your fiance had done three weeks ago.”

Yuuri had no time to get anxious about what was to follow, because the lively female voice continued immediately:

“Good news! The results are all negative. You can have them picked up from our reception desk anytime next month! Also, Dr. Stolski would like to schedule the follow-up physical.”

“Right! Thank you so much”, Yuuri said. Whenever’s fine with us, really. Just text me the date and time, except at least a day in advance because we have to fly in from St Petersburg... Thanks again!”

“No problem! Have a great day. Good bye!”

Yuuri ended the call with a happy smile. Finally, some good news! He couldn’t wait to tell Victor .... except that Yuuri suddenly remembered with a wince that night at the hospital in Moscow, how Victor had acted like all this wasn’t about him. He wouldn’t know how to broach the topic. He resolved not to tell Victor himself, but tell Maya instead. She’d know how to best convey the information to Victor. Yuuri was thankful for Maya Rodionovna. The results of her sessions had started to make themselves manifest – Victor was now eating more, sleeping more, and the nightmares were fewer. He still had bad days, and he still, on occasion, said things which unsettled Yuuri. But all in all, there was reason for hope. Maya kept him up to date about Victor’s progress, but she only revealed things that Victor agreed to. For instance, she had let him know that Victor started to acknowledge what had happened to him, but didn’t want to press charges or even name the person responsible. Maya asked Yuuri to leave things be for now. So Yuuri waited, and hoped.

 

~

“Mr. Katsuki, Mr. Nikiforov. Welcome.”

“Please, Yuuri – a-and Victor. It’s so nice to see you again, Dr. Stolski.”

Victor nodded at him, and Yuuri bowed, out of custom, to show his respect and gratitude, and Dr Stolski courteously mirrored it, then went right to the consult.

Victor was cooperative and everything went smoothly, so Dr. Stolksi soon signed off on the follow-up consult, with ‘patient recovery within expected parameters.’

“You’ve lost some weight, Victor”, was his only criticism. “However, that’s not surprising.”

“He’s hardly been eating”, Yuuri chimed in.

“But your injuries are well on their way to healing nicely. You’re still young and the body has a remarkable way of putting itself back together. If only the mind had the same ability.”

“Speaking of, I meant to thank you for recommending Dr. Rodionovna. I – _We_ are so grateful. She’s been a great deal of help.”

“Ah, so you and Maya get along. That’s nice. She speaks highly of you as well, and is happy to help. I feel I must tell you, though, all that frequent flying is getting to her. She acts tough, but I can tell it’s wearing her out. I suggested skype sessions, but she said maybe later, depending on the progress.”

“Oh my god”, Yuuri said. “This can’t be easy for her at all! I’m so stupid. I’ll – uh.... I know! We’ll get a hotel in Moscow and stick around until she says it’s okay to continue with skype sessions. That is... if that’s alright with you, Victor.”

“That’s fine, Yuuri. You’re right, we should have thought of this.”

Yuuri turned back to Dr. Stolksi: “Thanks so much for bringing this to our attention!”

Stolski nodded.

“Don’t tell her it came from me, though – or that you’re doing it as a favor to her. She’s really stubborn about things like that.”

“Of course... I’ll just say we decided to get away from St Petersburg for a while, change the scenery and visit Moscow. Victor can show me around! This will be fun. We’ll get a chance to be like tourists for a while. It will be like a little holiday!”

“A good decision", Stolski said, approvingly. "Moscow is a beautiful town, rich in history. Lots of places to see. Some well known, others less so. I recommend the city tours. And I can show you myself some lovely spots which are off the beaten track – if you’re amenable.”

“That would be fantastic – if you have the time and patience!”

“Of course. And I think I’d enjoy revisiting some of these places myself, seeing them with new eyes.”

 

Yuuri and Victor hadn’t packed much, expecting to only be in Moscow for one night, so the first thing they did was go on an impromptu shopping spree for bare necessities, which ended up being more fun than they had anticipated.

Yuuri picked a small hotel, far from the five star hotel they had stayed in a month ago when they were in Moscow. He still remembered Victor’s comments about the color of the walls and the impersonal look of the room, and was careful to pick a place which looked cozy and comfortable. The rooms were smaller, with less amenities, but the walls were painted in a warm buttercream color, and the homely effect was magnified by the soft yellow light of the lamps, lending the room a golden, peaceful glow. The queen-size bed was large and comfortable, the mattress soft and pleasantly fragrant. Yuuri was beginning to feel excited as if they really were on a holiday. The only drawback was that they didn’t bring Makkachin, and Yuuri had to call Yakov, who had a key to Victor’s apartment and ask him to take the pup to a pet camp for the time they were away.

~

“I’m so glad the check-up went fine, and the results were negative”, Yuuri said, the next morning over a good cup of coffee.

Victor gave a noncommittal grunt.

“You did lose quite a bit of weight, though. I’ve noticed that, too, it’s obvious”, Yuuri continued. “If it were me, that would be good news, but you’ve always been slender. Losing weight means losing muscle mass and that’s not gonna help on the ice. We’re gonna need to put in extra hours at the gym to make up for it.”

Victor stiffened slightly, and Yuuri watched him, curiously:

“So what do you feel like doing today? You know, I was wondering.... since the doctor said you were fine, maybe we could hit an ice rink around here? I mean...if you’re feeling up to it? I’ve looked it up on the internet, there are plenty of ice rinks in Moscow and I thought we could....I mean... nothing too strenuous of course, not like practice, but just to skate around, get the feel of the ice under our feet....Would you like that?”

Victor’s face progressively darkened as Yuuri stumbled through his speech.

“No”, he said immediately. “I mean – no, I don’t feel like it. But – if you want to go, then please go, Yuuri. I don’t want you to get out of shape because of me.”

“I can go anytime I want, Victor”, Yuuri reassured him. “I just thought, you might like that, for yourself.”

“No”, Victor repeated. “Not today.”

Yuuri nodded, to show it was alright. But ‘not today’, became ‘not tomorrow’, nor the next week, and then Yuuri stopped asking.

 

Instead, they went all over the town, like happy, carefree tourists, leaving in the morning after breakfast and returning at night. Aside from the hours Victor spent in therapy, they were inseparable. Their lively self-imposed schedule gave neither of them time to worry or overthink things. And there was so much to do, so many places to see, they got caught up in the frenzy of planning trips and taking in as much of the sights as possible. It came as somewhat of a surprise to Yuuri that Victor knew Moscow only in passing, and had never visited even its renowned attractions. It was all as new to him as it was to Yuuri.

Yuuri tsked in mock disapproval when Victor made that confession, a little shamefaced.

“So much for showing me around”, Yuuri said, and laughed.

“There was just never time, you know”, Victor tried to justify himself.

“Well yeah, not with sleeping in until the last minute before the competitions!” Yuuri teased.

As promised, Stolski went with them a few times, and showed them some memorable spots – a secret garden, an enchanting egg-shaped house, a traditional and picturesque restaurant with delicious food. He also took them to places which offered a stunning view of the city against the skyline.

Yuuri was also very fond of the city tours, which were always a great mix of educational and fun, and did his best to schedule at least one per day.

Late in the evenings, they returned to the hotel pleasantly exhausted and fell into bed together, only to wake up the next day, refreshed and eager to start again. One day, Yuuri happily realized that it’s been more than week he was awoken by one of Victor’s nightmares. Victor had also started eating better, even experimenting with foods again, and he had gained some color in his cheeks and his usual heart-shaped smile. His voice had regained that lovely upwards lilt when saying Yuuri’s name, and Yuuri’s heart beat faster whenever that happened.

 

~

One day, as Yuuri came to pick Victor up from Maya’s cabinet after his Saturday session, Maya asked him to stay for a bit.

“Good news, Yuuri. After assessing Victor’s parameters, I’ve become satisfied that enough progress has been made for us to proceed to skype sessions. Victor said he was fine with it, so I just thought I’d check with you as well.”

“Of course”, Yuuri said, although he couldn’t help but feel a little sad. This meant their little ‘holiday’ in Moscow was at an end. It had somehow felt like borrowed time. It was as if they somehow didn’t have to deal with their issues for a while.

As if reading his mind, Maya smiled.

“Cheer up, Yuuri, you can come and visit anytime. Come back in July, in time for the Flower Festival. I think you’d like it.”

“Oh, you have something like this, too?”

“Something like it, yes, although nowhere near as impressive or widespread as the ones you have in Japan. But we plant flowers all around Red Square for a month or so in July. It’s quite a pretty sight.”

“Th-thank you, I will.”

“And you know, as I keep telling people – sometimes places we love are a state of mind.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, people think they fall in love with places, you know? But in fact, what they love about a place is how they felt when they visited – if they had a good time, the company they were in, the way the light shimmered through the trees one summer afternoon, the feeling of gentle nostalgia at the thought that they will have to leave soon – in short, a state of mind.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“And a state of mind is yours to revisit and recapture anytime you like.”

Yuuri nodded and looked over at Victor.

He had an idea where to go for their last day in Moscow.

 

~

“Okay, just promise you won’t laugh, okay?”

As if on cue, Victor gave a resounding chuckle. Yuuri frowned:

“Oh boy.”

“I’m sorry, Yuuri, you can’t just tell me that and expect me not to laugh!”

“You’re a child, really.”

“And you’re making an adorable face. What _is it_ , though, I’m so curious!”

“You’ll see. Oh gosh, I’ll never hear the end of this.... Actually, you know what, let’s go back. It’s nothing impor-“

“Oh no no no, Yuuri. We’re doing this, whatever it is you want to do! I’ll bug you forever if you don’t show me!”

“Ah well, anyway, okay, come on.... It’s just over here, on the embankment....look.”

“Oh, what are these? Isn’t it too late for Christmas trees?”

“They’re not Christmas trees, Victor. Heh, I still can’t believe there’s stuff I know about Moscow and you don’t. Let’s get closer.”

They approached one of the several iron trees, adorned with multicolored decorations, set in a straight line along Luzhkov Bridge. The closer they got, it became more apparent that what Victor initially took for Christmas decorations were in fact brightly-colored padlocks, most of them red and yellow and black, with names inscribed on them.

“Wow”, Victor reacted with delight.

“I-it’s like this...”, Yuuri explained, blushing. “When people get married or, you know, whatever, they put these locks in the tree with their name on them. I don’t know the exact significance, but I guess it’s supposed to mean that their relationship is strong and unbreakable. And I – “

Victor’s mouth fell open in surprise, as Yuuri, blushing even more furiously, produced a small golden padlock from his pocket.

“...I had one made, with our names on it... so we can....”

“Yuuriiiii!” Victor interrupted him, as he grabbed him in a fierce hug. Yuuri gave a small gasp as the wind was knocked out of him. He buried his face in Victor’s shoulder, tears filling his eyes.

“S-so.... what do you think, Victor?” he asked anxiously. “Is it too tacky or-?”

Victor huffed and tightened his arms even further around Yuuri.

“I love it!” he declared. “It’s wonderful, the best thing ever!” and the genuine delight in his voice made Yuuri’s heart soar. “I love my Yuuri sooo much!” he proclaimed, as he squeezed Yuuri so tightly, he yelped.

When Victor finally let Yuuri go, his eyes were twinkling and his heart-shaped smile was firmly in place as he directed his attention back to the trees:

“Hmm... finding a free spot to hang our padlock will be a challenge!” he said, and Yuuri laughed and rubbed at his eyes.

 

~

The first thing Yuuri and Victor did when returning to St. Petersburg, after taking Makkachin home, was to go and visit Yuri. Yuuri felt guilty for promising he’d visit, and then dropping off the face of the earth for weeks. The young Russian was out of bed, but was still in a bad temper because the doctor still hadn’t lifted his interdiction to go on the ice.

Yuuri had decided to let Victor talk to Yuri alone, and so he took his leave quietly, after saying hello to Yuri and shaking his hand. He remembered what Yuri had said to him ‘you don’t have a monopoly on caring for Victor’ – and he didn’t want to give the young Russian any more reason to think that. He was going to give Yuri his time with Victor, if that was what he wanted, Yuuri could step aside for a while and be gracious about it.

Besides, he had someplace he needed to be, and didn’t want to postpone it any longer.

He paused in the doorway and looked back at them briefly, before stepping out the door.

Victor and Yuri were speaking together in low voices, a steady flow of Russian, although from time to time Yuri raised his voice with his usual abruptness, but without any real heat. There was an easy familiarity about their manner with each other, which Yuuri almost envied. He remembered Yakov referring to their relationship as one of sibling rivalry. Yuuri, who had a big sister, could understand that. There was the usual taunting and teasing, competing for the parents’ affection, maybe even some cruel pranks. But Mari could be fiercely protective of Yuuri whenever someone picked on her little brother, and Yuuri knew that if anything were to happen to Mari, he’d tear the world apart to be there for her. He sighed and turned away, deciding not to intrude upon them any further.

“I know what happened. Yuuri told me.”

“I imagine he did.”

“He also told me you don’t want to talk about it. I mean, I don’t blame you, I wouldn’t either. But _you have to_.”

“What good would that do?”

“To see that person punished.”

Victor sighed in annoyance.

“I already figured out who it was, though, all by myself!”

“What?? How?”

“I just put two and two together, from what you’ve told me”, Yuri shrugged. “It was Andrey Sarychev, wasn’t it?”

Victor shuddered and looked away.

“Victor, go to the police and tell them.”

“It’s too late now, Yuratchka.”

“Fuck this! You stubborn, ridiculous—“

“Let’s not argue....please? I’m thankful.... I’m thankful that... Your injury was a blessing in disguise.”

“Like hell it was.”

“I don’t want to imagine how much worse things would’ve been if you had been there.”

“Victor, that asshole was obsessed with you, not me.”

“He would’ve seen you as a threat. If you’d been there, the gold medal would’ve been yours. I fucked up so badly, Yuri.”

“I know, I watched. And yeah, you fucked up. But you won.”

“So you see, it wasn’t fair-“

“You won because that fucking asshole skated like a monkey. Honestly, I wonder how he’s come so far. Are people blind? If anyone’s overscored, it’s him.”

“He can land jumps....”

“Yeah, so can a monkey, if you train it. But his step sequence is pathetic. His ice coverage is that of a junior at his first major event who’s been skating at the pond in his back yard. Even his jumps lack height and speed. He punches in the number of revolutions so he gets the score but they’re underwhelming as fuck. It’s like gravity has him by the balls. But the worst of all is his presentation. How does he get _any_ scores at all for presentation is beyond me. Remember when you put me under a waterfall so I could get Agape? Well, he needs to be thrown in the fucking Niagara.”

Involuntarily, Victor had started to laugh at one point in the middle of Yuri’s speech.

“That’s mean, Yuri”, Victor said, still grinning, when it looked like Yuri had finished his diatribe. “The judges....”

“Fuck them, bunch of pompous fucks. It would’ve been outrageous if he got 1st place, even if you did land that quad on your ass. And if Giacometti had managed to land all of his quads, he’d have been in second place, not Sarychev.”

“That doesn’t matter to me anymore”, Victor confessed. “That gold medal....holds no meaning to me. It doesn’t feel like I won it.”

“Well, then go back there. At Worlds.... show them. Show all those fucks who don’t think you have it in you anymore. Go out there and slay. That program you have, the Firebird – it’s all about rebirth, isn’t it?”

“Yes, well...I didn’t exactly have this in mind when I came up with it.”

“I’m just saying, you can be reborn more than once. Someone once told me that people who can be reborn as many times as necessary are the strong ones.”

“That wasn’t Lilia by any chance, was it?” Victor smiled.

“Yeah. What, she told you the same, did she?”

“Those exact words, when I was about your age”, Victor chuckled.

“Of course, I thought she was a crazy old hag at first....”

“She grows on you”, Victor agreed, still smiling. “Seriously though, I love her. And I love Yakov too. They taught me so much, not only about skating and dancing but about life in general I think.”

“Yeah”, Yuri assented. “They’re not so bad. So - are you gonna do it?”

“Do what?”

“Oh, come on, don’t make me say it again. Skate your routine at Worlds.”

Victor shook his head, frowning.

“I.... I couldn’t. I....don’t see myself...”, Victor paused, at a loss for words, as if the idea was too overwhelming, then he settled for saying: “I can’t stand looking at that costume anymore. I haven’t seen it around either, I think Yuuri’s hid it. Or burned it. I’d be okay with it either way.”

“Well, then have a new one made. Even flashier. Even more shockingly revealing. Then go out there and skate exactly like you want to, and show you don’t give a fuck. It’s what I’d do.”

“I know you would. You’re a very special boy, Yuratchka, talented and inspired and smart. I’ve always admired your strength and your fighting spirit. You resent me for coaching Yuuri instead of you but I’ve always suspected that it wouldn’t have worked between us. I have this feeling that you and I are made of the same mold, and so we’d have been butting heads a lot. You would have challenged my authority all the time, and I wouldn’t have known how to best support you. I know you don’t believe me, but I do care about you a lot.”

“I don’t resent you. I was pissed off at first, but in the end, it all worked out for the better, didn’t it?”

Victor nodded.

“Yakov and Lilia are good for you. Much better than I would’ve been. They ground you, they don’t cut you much slack, but they’re reliable. As for me, I’ve always been an airhead. I don’t know how Yuuri puts up with me half the time.”

“Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t - you’re right about that. But, you know, Victor, I – me too.”

Victor smiled, knowing this would be all Yuri would allow himself when it came to declarations of affection.

 

~

Yuuri was terrified, his heart pumping in his chest, but he was also very determined to see this through, as he stepped inside the locker room of the skating club.

There – tying his shoelaces, was the man who haunted Victor’s nightmares and Yuuri’s waking moments ever since he found out.

Yuuri advanced on him slowly, not taking his eyes off him. Sarychev was much larger than he was, Yuuri would never win in a fight against him, but still, every bone in his body ached to jump on him and beat him to a pulp. He took a deep shuddering breath.

Sarychev turned, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Yuuri.

“Hello. Yuuri Katsuki, is it? Nice to meet you.”

A beat of silence, then Yuuri replied, through clenched teeth:

“I know what you did.”

Sarychev didn’t react.

“Excuse me?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I know what you did to Victor.”

“Sorry, what?” Sarychev smiled in genuine confusion. “Are you talking about Victor Nikiforov? What exactly am I supposed to have done? Surely not take away his gold medal, like I wanted to.”

“Oh, that’s right. You wanted that, so very much, but you couldn’t, so you settled for taking something else from him.”

Sarychev was still shaking his head in polite bewilderment, and Yuuri suddenly lost all shred of his patience.

“Stop pretending!” he hissed. “I know it was you, _I know_.”

“So Victor told you, eh?” Sarychev suddenly dropped all pretense, face darkening with hatred. Yuuri didn’t bother to contradict him. “Stupid bitch,” he spat out. He closed in on Yuuri, who held his ground defiantly. “Didn’t Victor also tell you that I have friends? The two of you better be watching over your shoulder.”

“Ooh, is that a threat?” Yuuri taunted.

“You bet your ass it is.”

“Well, the police will be thrilled to hear it.”

Sarychev gave a booming laugh.

“The police, haha. You won’t go to the police. They’ll just laugh in your face. You’re new to Russia, aren’t you, little guy? Heh. If you were serious about the police, you would’ve gone immediately. Not that it meant them doing anything about it. They probably would’ve still laughed. Because, do you know how easy it was, to fuck your boyfriend? You’d think he would’ve fought like a man, if he really wanted to escape. But no. I just held him down with one hand, and he made the sweetest sounds while I rawed him.”

Yuuri was shaking with anger, vision blurring.

“You’ll never convince me Victor didn’t want this”, Sarychev went on, delighted at Yuuri’s reaction. “Oh, he loved it alright. He’s always acted like such a slut, I bet he’s been waiting for someone like me to come along and give it to him good. I told him, you don’t get it enough from your Japanese boyfriend, Victor, I said to him. And he didn’t contradict me. And now I can see why”, Sarychev continued, looking Yuuri pointedly up and down. “Look at you, little boy. I bet you’re more the kind that likes to bounce on a cock, rather than stick it to someone.”

At those words, the hot anger in Yuuri’s veins abruptly turned to an icy chill as Yuuri regained his calm.

“Oh yeah. I’d love to bounce on your cock”, Yuuri deadpanned. “I’d also love to see you choke on your own vomit while I strangle you with my laces, you piece of shit.”

Sarychev snarled and advanced on him, but stopped dead suddenly, and looked around warily. His eyes narrowed.

“Yeah....no”, he said. “Do you think I’m stupid to just attack you? You wouldn’t have come here to confront me alone unless you had your friends waiting outside. So yeah, nice try.”

He bent to whisper in Yuuri’s ear:

“But I’ll make you the same promise I made Victor. Better be looking over your shoulder because I have friends of my own, and I know where you two live.”

With that, Sarychev turned abruptly and made for the door.

“You’re right”, Yuuri spoke up, making Sarychev pause in his tracks. “I do have friends outside. But I also have something else.” He took out his phone. “I recorded every word you just said. You basically admitted what you did to Victor, in vivid detail, and made even further threats. Now, I may be new to Russia, but I’m guessing that’s enough to get the police at least interested.”

Sarychev snarled and Yuuri took an involuntary step back, but still held his gaze defiantly.

“If you don’t want me to do that, then the best thing that you can do is disappear. _Go away forever._ If you ever raise your head again, I know what I have to do. _”_

Sarychev huffed.

“You expect me to just leave skating now, when I’m finally champion?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I expect you to do. Quickly and quietly.”

With that, Yuuri quickly sidestepped him and hurried out of the building, his heart beating wildly. He couldn’t bear to breathe the same air as Sarychev another moment longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you’re wondering – no, that’s not the last we’ve seen of Sarychev.
> 
> Oh and: Victor is a bit confused when he says to Yuri: “I don’t want to imagine how much worse things would’ve been if you had been there.” Both Yuri and Victor forget that Sarychev would have never got a place on the Russian team for the Europeans if Yuri hadn’t got injured, to create an empty spot. Additionally, one could argue he wouldn’t even have made the podium at the Russian Nationals, if Georgi hadn’t been rattled by Yuri’s recent injury and managed to skate his best.


	10. Purple

 

Purple

 

As Victor became more and more like his old self, scars healing slowly but surely, Yuuri’s desire for him returned full-force.

Their relationship before ‘the event’ had been surprisingly chaste.

There had been kisses, touches, they even got each other off one memorable time – rubbing against each other on the bed – but that was as far as they went.

There had been concern for Yuuri’s performance and training, and they had wordlessly decided they would not exhaust themselves with anything more than that.

But this didn’t mean that they didn’t want more. It was in Victor’s eyes when he looked at Yuuri, and Yuuri knew the same desire was mirrored in his own.

Now all of this had to be re-assessed through the lens of what had happened to Victor.

 

Yuuri wished he could convey to his own body how complicated this situation had become, but his body was blissfully unaware of any such complications and reacted just as promptly and ardently to Victor’s proximity, to Victor clinging to him, happy and warm, now devoid of nightmares and sleeping as peacefully as he had ever done; and it seemed there was no way of letting it know that getting an erection while holding Victor in bed was nowadays the height of inappropriate. As Yuuri came to realize his recurrent problem, he would try to extricate himself from Victor’s arms every night and go to sleep on the couch, but Victor would have none of it. Once Victor fell asleep, Yuuri would make another attempt to escape, but if Victor happened to wake in the night and Yuuri wasn’t close to him, he’d wail miserably, until Yuuri woke up, and frightened by the sound, he’d rush from his temporary sleeping place on the couch to comfort him. In the mornings, Yuuri usually tried to wake up before Victor and take care of his hard-on in the shower.

One morning Yuuri woke up enveloped in warmth and softness, his body tingling with pleasure – it felt so good, he sighed happily, still half asleep, rubbing against the source of the warmth. A faint moan answered him, and the feeling of warm pressure grew, in precisely the right spot to make Yuuri gasp again lustily. He indulged himself, pulling the source of the pleasure even closer, until at last the urgency of his arousal pierced his sleepy mind, and Yuuri blinked, confused, as he slowly came to awareness. His eyes widened immediately in shock as he took in the situation. Victor’s body was plastered to his own, from chest to toe, his arms holding Yuuri in a tight grip, as he pressed his hard cock against Yuuri’s stomach, while Yuuri’s own erection was rubbing against Victor’s thigh. Yuuri’s arms were also around Victor’s waist. Yuuri realized that they had been rutting against each other, half asleep and he startled, disentangling himself from Victor’s grip as fast as he could. Victor woke up at the sudden movement, contrite at being deprived of Yuuri’s closeness; but Yuuri had already shot out of bed mortified, and locked himself in the shower for the better part of the morning, berating himself about it. He hated himself even more for not being able to vanquish the sweet and pleasant memory of holding Victor’s warm and pliant body against him, his fiance’s soft moans as they took their pleasure against each other’s bodies.

When Yuuri finally emerged, the first thing he did was abjectly apologize to Victor, saying that he never meant it. He was horrified when Victor’s eyes filled immediately with tears.

“I’m sorry!” Yuuri repeated, louder. “I promise I – this won’t happen again!”

Victor only cried harder, in that silent, dead sort of way he usually cried, which both fascinated and alarmed Yuuri.

Yuuri dropped to his knees in chagrin, hands hovering, not daring to touch.

“Please, how can I make it up to you?” he asked, desperately. “I know what I did was unforgivable but –“

 _It’s your fault for making me sleep with you_ – Yuuri continued dejectedly in his mind. No, it wasn’t Victor’s fault. It was Yuuri’s fault. He should’ve stayed strong for Victor, and if he couldn’t, then he’d be better off staying away! From now on, he won’t be swayed by Victor’s tears and requests to come to bed – he’d give him the space and respect he needs!

Victor’s voice suddenly broke through Yuuri’s mind like a surge of lightning, a voice weary and thick with tears.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri. I won’t make you come to bed with me anymore”.

Yuuri nodded, Victor was making the right decision. He felt relieved.

“I know I disgust you now, but I was selfish”, Victor continued. “I wanted you close to me, but – it’s not fair to you... I’m so sorry.”

Yuuri did a double take.

“What??” he cried. “You think that ....why would you think that you disgust me?” Yuuri couldn’t contain his bewilderment. His mind was reeling; just when he thought that Victor was making progress, he hit an unexpected hurdle seemingly out of nowhere.

“It’s obvious, so please don’t try to deny it”, Victor answered in the same weary voice, breath hitching slightly as his tears were still falling, steadily and quietly, reminding Yuuri of another time when Victor had cried silently because of Yuuri. “I’m not blaming you for it, you know. I understand. But I’m selfish, I - I love you, Yuuri. Please stay with me for a little while more. We don’t have to sleep together, but please don’t leave me yet.”

Yuuri just stared, stunned.

“ _Victor_ ”, he finally said. And once that word was out of his mouth, the rest tumbled through, and he didn’t stop to think about them or censor them. “Victor, you’re the only one that I want. You’re all I dream about. I want you so much, that I’m humping you in my sleep, even though when I’m awake I know that this is bad!”

Victor huffed slightly.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Yuuri. Why else would you keep pulling away and rejecting me?”

“Because my stupid body can’t help but react to you, and the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable or traumatize you.... because of what happened.”

“You spent hours washing yourself in the shower this morning!”

“That’s because I was too embarrassed to come out and face you!”

“You said this won’t ever never happen again!”

“...I didn’t mean it like this. I meant I will never abuse you in my sleep again!”

Victor rolled his eyes.

“So when you’re refusing me, and pushing me away, you think you’re actually being considerate?”

“...Yes”, Yuuri answered, deciding to ignore the sarcasm in Victor’s voice.

Victor’s eyes flashed with some of his old determination, which said ‘I will have the truth out of you or else’.

“So what happened to me doesn’t disgust you?” he inquired.

Yuuri could’ve burst into tears.

“I’m not disgusted _by you._ I could never be disgusted by you, no matter what happens, Victor, so please remember that. What happened to you was horrible, and I’m angry that it happened, but....”, he struggled to find the right words, and suddenly hit just upon the right ones, “but it doesn’t change how I feel about you”, he finished, resolutely.

“But you’re acting like it does, Yuuri”, Victor protested. “When you don’t want to be intimate with me anymore, it makes me feel like I’m tainted.”

Yuuri considered this logic, then sighed.

“This was never my intention”, he repeated. “I only wanted you to feel comfortable and safe.”

“I’ve always felt comfortable and safe with you, Yuuri”, Victor answered. “I still do.”

“Good”, Yuuri said, with a watery smile. “Then we’ll get through this.”

 _We’ll get through this,_ Yuuri repeated in his mind. _We have to. There’s a padlock in Luzhkov Bridge with our names on it._

 

~

“You can start”, Maya told him, “slowly and tentatively, to discuss sex”.

Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat.

“Did Victor tell you he wants to…have s-sex with me?”

“He did. Now, unfortunately I am aware that you cannot discuss sex without a straightforward discussion of ‘the event’, but Victor will have to be the one who initiates it.”

“Of course”, Yuuri quickly agreed.

“If and when he does, your reactions are important. Crying and cursing is cathartic but it can only get you this far. You should be able by now to discuss it with some form of detachment. Believe me, it will help the both of you. Victor has come quite far in both acknowledging what happened and starting to deal with it, but we mustn’t forget that not long ago he had a suicide attempt, so anything he’s not comfortable discussing, if he stops at anytime and does not want to say anything further, don’t push.”

“You don’t need to tell me this, Maya.”

“Okay. But the opposite is also true, you know. If the discussion becomes distressing for _you_ , please feel free to put a stop to it anytime.”

“But.... even if Victor wants to keep talking about it? No - I’m sure I’ll be fine with it”

 _“Yes._ This is a two-way relationship, Yuuri. You underestimate your own trauma relative to this event. I want you to promise me that if at any point the discussion becomes uncomfortable for _you_ , you’ll put a stop to it.”

“But if it helps Victor....”

“Helping Victor is my job. Your job is staying sane.”

 

~

“Please, I want you to make love to me. I want to replace the memory of that man’s hands all over me. Please make me yours if you still want me.”

A rush of pity and possessiveness welled up in Yuuri. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt nervously, not daring to look up at Victor. But even as his anxiety was flaring up, his body couldn’t help but react to Victor’s voice slightly slurring the words ‘make love to me’. On a good day, Yuuri would feel aroused by Victor reciting the telephone book to him in that voice, let alone asking to be made love to. He took a deep breath, and decided to be honest about what he was feeling, even if it meant taking a blow to his pride. He wasn’t one to overvalue his pride anyway.

“I do want you. Want you so much I’m afraid I’m gonna fuck this up. I’m scared. I’m sor-“

Victor smiled brilliantly up at him and pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’ll take you through it”, Victor whispered into Yuuri’s ear, biting gently at the earlobe. “Would you like that? Me telling you what to do? How to touch me?”

Yuuri’s eyes widened as his brain shortcircuited.

“God, yes”, he moaned. “I’d like that so much. Tell me how to please you.”

Victor pulled back and undid his bathrobe.

“Take your clothes off”, he directed, as he did the same. Yuuri hurried to comply.

“Now come here.... That’s right. Relax. Give me your hand, Yuuri... I like to be touched here –“ Victor ran Yuuri’s hand across the column of his neck, down to his shoulder.

“I love this part of you”, Yuuri confessed, blushing, repeating the motion on his own. “That first day, when you came to Hasetsu, you were dressed in that yukata and it kept slipping off your shoulder... you must have no idea what I’m talking about and I probably sound like a creep but I couldn’t stop staring even though I knew it was wrong. It was like being in first grade again and watching our foreign exchange teacher wear that see-through dress and when she stood in front of the window you could see nearly everything – I was so embarrassed but it was also exciting.... Oh my god, I sound like an idiot, I’m babbling, I _am_ a creep, I’m _sorry_ -“

“Shhh”, Victor soothed him, sounding amused. “It’s okay, Yuuri, I wanted you to look. I was hoping you’d notice and like what you see. Now here – touch me here”, he drew Yuuri’s hand lower across his chest. “Don’t grab, okay? Just brush lightly, yes?” Yuuri obeyed, running only the pads of his fingers in a gentle caress across Victor’s chest, down to his stomach. “Mmmm yes”, Victor murmured. “Yes.... Slowly.”

Victor let go of Yuuri’s hand, eyes half-closing in pleasure as Yuuri repeated the motions, and even took the initiative to run a feather-light caress down Victor’s arms as well. Victor shuddered.

“Ah, well done, Yuuri. You learn fast.”

Yuuri smiled, giddy with happiness and overflowing with love, as unfiltered words poured out of him again:

“Fuck, Victor, I love you so much, love that I’m making you feel good, you’re so beautiful, look at you, so beautiful like this.”

Victor stiffened abruptly, and that couldn’t have gone unnoticed by Yuuri, attuned to Victor’s reactions as he was.

“Victor?” he questioned, pulling his hands away immediately. “What is it?”

Victor huffed. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, then opened them again resolutely, and confessed:

“This is going to sound stupid but... Well, _he_ called me pretty. You know what I’m taking about, right? I’m talking about when I – when it...”

With a sharp nod of his head, Yuuri assented, sparing Victor the struggle of putting it into words, and waited for him to continue.

“Well, as he did those things to me, he kept calling me pretty. _Pretty like a doll._ And it sounded somehow insulting, dismissive. It makes me sick now, to hear someone calling me that again. So...please, don’t.”

Yuuri frowned.

“Pretty like a doll does sound dismissive, and dehumanizing”, he eventually agreed. “Not to mention rather stupid. But I don’t think I _ever_ called you pretty.”

Victor thought for a moment.

“Well...now that I think about it, no, I guess you haven't. But you called me beautiful just now, so... yeah, pretty – beautiful – it’s the same thing.”

“But it’s not the same thing at all”, Yuuri insisted. This was an argument he really needed to win. He couldn’t bear the thought that he could never call his fiance beautiful ever again, or that Victor would forever associate that word with negative emotions. 

“I know it’s not reasonable, but it makes me sick all the same”, Victor shuddered to emphasize his point. “Ugh, I wish I could be ugly and people wouldn’t look at me.”

“But that wouldn’t solve anything”, Yuuri replied. “There would still be men like Sarychev. It’s their fault, not yours.”

“It’s a little bit my fault”, Victor argued. “Otherwise this would’ve happened to someone else, not me.”

Yuuri frowned at that twisted logic.

“What does Maya-“

“Oh, she says it’s not my fault, she says one has nothing to do with the other. But I know better. If I had been just a little less – a little _less,_ you know – then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

“A little less _you_?”

“Oh, I don’t know, a little duller, a little less showy, a little less provoking?”

Yuuri couldn’t believe his ears. He hated this. He hated that Victor’s reaction to what happened was to try to water down his wonderful, flashy personality, thinking it was somehow at fault for catching the attention of someone like Sarychev.

“Like for instance”, Victor continued, “when he unzipped my costume and saw I wasn’t wearing anything underneath, he became convinced that I wanted something like this to happen –“

“He’s a fucking idiot!” Yuuri interrupted, annoyed.

“But if I hadn’t –“

“You could have skated in a damn parka, with a mask over your face, and Sarychev would have still wanted to hurt you”, Yuuri insisted, stubbornly. “It was all about hurting you, don’t you see? He hated you for winning that gold medal, and he was spiteful. He couldn’t best you on the ice, and this was the only way someone like him could gain any power over someone like you. He wanted to humiliate you, establish his dominance over you. The fact that he chose sex to do it only shows what a miserable scum he is. It reflects badly on him, not you.”

Victor was silent, as if still uncertain.

“Please don’t associate sexual desire with what he did to you”, Yuuri begged. “Even if he did desire you, he never would have done this to you, unless he really hated you. Do you understand?”

Victor glanced away and kept stubbornly silent. Yuuri gently cupped Victor’s face, angling it towards him, trying to meet his eyes, as he continued, earnestly:

“There will always be men like him, stupid and mean, who want to appear larger than life, despite their limited worth. They feel threatened by anyone who proves they’re better than them. Such men want to destroy what’s beautiful, instead of enjoying it. But that doesn’t mean we have to dull our worth and beauty just so they wouldn’t feel provoked”, Yuuri ended with heat, hoping to awaken the same defiance in Victor.

Victor finally sprang to attention at those words, and watched Yuuri lingeringly, a familiar, if slightly dulled, spark lighting in his eyes.

“No, it doesn’t”, Victor agreed, grasping Yuuri’s hands in his own; and Yuuri wanted to shout for joy: he felt like an important battle had been won. His arousal had all but faded during their conversation, but now it was slowly rekindled by the look in Victor’s eyes and by their proximity. Yuuri’s eyes were drawn to Victor’s lips, only inches away from his.

“Did he...ever kiss you?” Yuuri asked hesitantly, as if afraid of the answer.

“No. He - ugh, he licked me. It was horrible, disgusting. And he bit me.”

“But he didn’t actually kiss you?”

“No.”

Yuuri felt absurdly and selfishly relieved.

“Will you let me kiss you?” he wondered.

“Do you really want to?” Victor asked, with an uncertainty that was entirely unlike Victor, and which tugged at Yuuri's heartstrings.

“There is nothing I want more right now,” he answered truthfully.

“Then please kiss me, Yuuri.”

They leaned towards each other, mouths meeting halfway. It was like a first kiss, in a way – tentative and shy. They both pulled back at the same time and smiled at each other. Then Yuuri leaned in again and Victor wrapped his arms around him, tightly, still smiling against his mouth.

 

 _We should be taking it slow, we really should_ – Yuuri thought, later that evening, as he lay naked on top of Victor, kissing him frantically. He tried to pull back slightly, but Victor would have none of it and wrapped arms and legs around him, toppling him over until they lay side by side.

“Mmmm”, he sighed happily, as he pressed even closer, claiming Yuuri’s lips again.

It was difficult to take things slow when Victor was so clingy, so hot and eager for Yuuri.

When Victor’s hand slipped down to touch Yuuri’s cock, Yuuri let out an agonized cry.

“Ahh – don’t! I’m so close already.... I’m gonna come!”

“So come then,” Victor purred into his ear, caressing him.

“But – ahh – you- haven’t....”

“It’s okay – I’m close too....”

“Let me... Can I touch you?”

“Yes, Yuuri. Please.”

They finished together, gasping and clinging to each other, sweaty and exhausted, but satisfied.

“Woah”, Yuuri gasped, falling on his back. “That was awesome.”

He looked over at Victor assessingly, taking in his fiance’s flushed cheeks, messed up hair and sparkling eyes.

“Awesome”, he repeated, as Victor laughed and snuggled close.

“Yes, Yuuri. It was. But you still haven’t made love to me properly. I won’t let you off the hook that easily, you know,” Victor drawled, kissing his neck.

Yuuri shivered, his cock stirring again at Victor’s words and actions.

“But for now, let’s sleep!” Victor ended abruptly, and happily burrowed into the pillow, arms tightening around Yuuri.

Yuuri sighed, half in reluctant disappointment, half in genuine relief. He turned his head, pressing his nose into Victor’s hair, inhaling his scent. He should probably get up and clean them off or they’ll be sticky and gross in the morning, but he felt too boneless and lazy to actually do it. Soon, Yuuri drifted off, feeling warm and content.

 

~

The World Championships had come and gone, and Yuuri was bitterly satisfied to see that Sarychev had withdrawn. He had been evasive in his interviews, saying that he wanted some time off skating, to focus on other pursuits. The Russian press was having a field day with speculating about the misfortune which seemed to hover around the entire Russian team – what with Yuri Plisetsky’s injury, Sarychev’s abrupt withdrawal, and Victor’s extended illness.

Yuuri had elected to give the Worlds a miss as well, with only a short explanation that he wanted to look after his fiance, and the JSF was understandably none too pleased, but Yuuri couldn't care less about that. Still, he couldn’t keep off the ice for long, so these days he was at the rink almost every day, even if Victor still refused to join him. By unspoken agreement, it was Yakov who had adopted him, coaching him along with the rest of his team, and being just as merciless about it.

“I told the press Vitya’s chickenpox developed some ‘complications’”, Yakov told Yuuri one day. He actually made the quotation marks in the air, and Yuuri stifled a chuckle. “What? I’m running out of bloody excuses. I called him yesterday again, reminded him he still has a coach, just in case he forgot. Asked him if he wanted to announce his retirement – _again_ , you know. Do you know what he said?”

Yuuri shook his head.

“ _Of course you’re still my coach, Yakov, I’m still paying for you, aren’t I_? As if I would be worried about the money, of all things! I had to remind him I took him in and wiped his snot when he was a bratty 11 year old, and had he forgotten about that? You should’ve seen him back then, all skinny and tripping over his feet like a newborn colt. Haha”, Yakov laughed at the memory, then broke off abruptly, as he realized Yuuri was watching him, intrigued.

As Yuuri still had no idea about Victor’s past, or why Victor never talked about his parents, he jumped at the opportunity to question Yakov:

“What about his parents?” he prompted.

“What about them?” Yakov shrugged. “If Vitya never told you, I don’t think it’s for me to say...”

“Please?” Yuuri asked. “I won’t tell him that you told me.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s a big secret anyway. His mother was a ballerina. She and Lilia were friendly. I never knew who the father was. Not to sound harsh, but I don’t think his mother did either. She never planned on getting pregnant, you see. Things were different in Russia back then, it was difficult to obtain birth control. And abortions were illegal. When Zoya found out she was pregnant, she complained to everyone that her career was over, she was doomed. She was a very ambitious young woman, you see. Lilia offered to help her get an abortion, she knew someone who took care of business like this in secret, but Zoya was afraid – there were stories of women who died doing these abortions. She didn’t want to take the risk, and I think a part of her did want to have the child. I think she loved Vitya in her own way, despite all her complaining that she wasn’t the same as before the pregnancy. Her body needed some time to recover, of course, but then she quickly lost weight and returned to ballet. But she couldn’t practice as extensively, not travel as much abroad like she used to do, because she had a small child at home. So the people who knew her offered to help. That’s how I got to know Vitya. It may all sound like a sob story but Vitya was always a happy child. He grew up doing ballet and figure skating, and he was always mollycoddled and the center of attention wherever he went. That got to his head, of course.”

“And his mother?” Yuuri asked.

“Zoya died a few years ago. Ovarian cancer.”

Yuuri remained silent, nodding, as he absorbed all this information.

“Right”, Yakov said, eager to change the subject. “So, Yuratchka. There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”

Yakov pulled Yuuri slightly aside and lowered his voice.

“You got me the proof I was asking for, at great risk to yourself, that was incredibly reckless of you, by the way, to just confront that asshole without any backup – and now you’re backing down? I’ll never understand you, Yuuri. Whenever I think I get the gist of you, you end up surprising me all over again.”

Yuuri smiled.

“That’s a compliment, if I ever heard one.” He sighed, then struggled to explain: “It’s just that... Sarychev is out of the way and he won’t hurt anyone again. That’s all I care about.”

“Really? Because not quite so long ago you were yammering about justice, revenge.”

“Yes, I was hurt and angry and I was in a dark place and worried about Victor so much. But as Victor slowly gets better, I realize, having Victor with me, having Victor get better, is all that matters. I won’t let that bastard take up more of our time, more of our thoughts and feelings. To have Victor, safe and healthy and happy, that’s all I really want.”

Yakov shook his head.

“Youth,” he sarcastically remarked. “Fickle, fickle youth.”

 

~

Yuuri’s brow was furrowed in concentration as he guided his cock inside Victor’s body slowly, pausing frequently to assess Victor’s reaction.

“Is this still okay?” he asked, anxiously, as he made it almost all the way in.

Victor groaned in frustration and pinched Yuuri’s thighs.

“Yuu-rii! I’m not made of glass or anything.”

“I’m sorry. You know I’ve never done this before.”

“You’ll get the hang of it before you know it”, Victor said, helpfully.

“Oh, I’m awful. Shouldn’t I be the one reassuring you right now?”

“I don’t need reassurances, Yuuri. I love you and I know I’m going to love doing it with you. Nothing about this is triggering to me.”

“....so far”, Yuuri couldn’t help adding.

“So far”, Victor agreed. “Now, I’d prefer it if you could express yourself in the oldest language in the world, if you know what I mean.”

“Less talking?”

“Yeah.”

“But I need to check-“

“You don’t need to check if I’m okay every 2 seconds, Yuuri. Believe me, I will let you know when things are not okay. Just let yourself feel. Your body knows what to do. Just give in to it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me, not on purpose. And not accidentally either, because I’d tell you if something was wrong.”

Slightly reassured by this, Yuuri picked up the pace slightly. Victor felt wonderful around him - the tightness, the heat, it was all a new and incredible sensation for Yuuri. Under different circumstances, he knew he wouldn’t have lasted. But now he was too anxious not to do anything wrong, and that dampened his enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, Victor started to get more and more into it, his eyes turning a dazzling blue, the color of forget-me-nots, his hands clutching at Yuuri, pulling him closer.

Yuuri leaned down to press open-mouthed kisses on Victor’s neck and upwards towards his mouth. His lips asked for permission to enter and when Victor opened his mouth, Yuuri immediately claimed it, tongue thrusting in lazily. Without intentionally planning it, Yuuri’s hips started moving at the same pace, driving into Victor in sensual, languid strokes, pressing Victor into the softness of the bed everytime he bottomed out.

“Oh~ Yuuri!!” Victor moaned into his mouth.

Yuuri pulled back.

“What is it?” he asked, momentarily worried that he had done something wrong.

“This feels wonderful!” Victor smiled. “Ahhh!” he reacted, mouth going lax with pleasure as Yuuri pressed in again, lingering deliberately inside as much as he could, before drawing back out slowly.

An even deeper thrust had Victor arching his back into it, with another loud moan. The sight of Victor arching his back, his face contorted in pleasure, went to Yuuri’s head like a powerful drug. He felt confident, strong and sensual, like Eros. He’d make Victor feel pleasure followed by pleasure, until he forgot everything bad that had happened to him and remembered only what being possessed by Yuuri felt like.

“Look only at me”, he whispered, gazing down into Victor’s eyes. “See only me.”

Victor’s eyes were fixed on him, and Yuuri clenched his teeth as a strong wave of pleasure hit him. It had always felt heady, the weight of Victor's gaze on him. Yuuri had always felt it palpably, like a hot touch on his skin, making him feel powerful, wanted, divine. Now, as he was inside Victor in this most intimate of ways, to feel Victor's eyes on him, was downright sinful. His control fraying around the edges, Yuuri started thrusting harder. Victor gasped, and pulled Yuuri’s head back down to kiss him hungrily, as he moved with him.

 

“I’m happy,” Victor said, afterwards.

“Me too”, Yuuri sighed. “And I’m glad you are happy.”

“I’m happy I got to have this,” Victor continued. “And I’ll always treasure the memory of it. Thank you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s eyes snapped open.

There was something about the way Victor said those words....something that didn’t feel quite right, but he couldn’t articulate exactly what it was, and he was too tired to try and work it out just then.

He sank back into the softness of the bed and allowed sleep to claim him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can think of this chapter as 'the fluffy times before the storm' ;)


	11. Scarlet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so...the triggers are spoilery and I don't think there's anything that the tags don't already cover so I'd rather not say anything more, except for: heavy angst ahead. Sorry :)

 

Scarlet

 

Sometimes Victor felt like he never wanted to have sex again, or think about sex at all. At other times, he was happily content to let Yuuri take care of him in whatever way he pleased, and to explore Yuuri’s body in turn with the excitement of a teenager only just discovering the pleasures of being with someone. And yet at other times... he felt like the only thing that would satisfy him was for Yuuri to pin him down and take him roughly. Not that Yuuri ever gave any indication that he would like to do that, which only served to make Victor even more ashamed of wanting it.

Victor was so distraught by these recent wishes that he ended up confessing them to Maya.

“There’s something wrong with me”, he told her. “I.... this can’t be normal. I’m so fucked up.”

“Victor, why is it that you think you want this?”

Victor shook his head, and repeated that he’s fucked up and this is not normal. Maya insisted.

“No, I mean I want you to really think why you want this, what you wish to gain from it. Don’t be so quick to judge your desires. They are not inherently wrong in themselves, as long as they don’t hurt anyone.”

Victor frowned. Why did he want this? He’d feel helpless, restrained, ripped open ... it would be just like _then_ , except, except....

“Because I know Yuuri wouldn’t hurt me”, it finally dawned on him. “And he would stop if I asked.”

“It’s not the violence you want to recreate, it’s the lack of it”, Maya nodded. “You want to strip the scene of its non consensual aspect and make it lose its power, its dark magic. Kind of like in Harry Potter, when the spell of getting rid of something you find frightening means relating it to something familiar.”

“So... I’m not that fucked up after all?” Victor asked, with a wry smile.

“No, Victor. Your mind is trying to cope as best as it can. I repeat, never be ashamed of your desires. They are a part of you.”

“But... _Yuuri_....”, Victor started to say, then waved his hands emphatically.

“What about Yuuri? Do you think that he would judge you?”

Victor nodded miserably.

“You can have a conversation with your fiance, where you each discuss your wishes and boundaries. You won’t know until you try, Victor.”

“Yuuri doesn’t deserve this”, Victor whispered. “He deserves so much better, Maya.”

There was a silence in which Maya said nothing.

“This is just another one of those times when I feel that... you know, what I told you back then....yeah...”, he trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. “Yeah”, he repeated, more resolutely, as if steeling himself for something - then his determination seemed to crumble, and looked up anxiously. “Maya, what do _you_ think I should do?” Victor finally said.

“Victor, I personally think that they two of you belong together. That’s my personal opinion. But as your therapist, I’m afraid I can’t answer that question. Especially not the way you phrased it, and not when you feel the need to use ‘should’ again. I think that the best thing one can do, under any circumstance, is _whatever they feel is right_. But be careful, though, Victor. Some feelings are tricky friends – here today, gone tomorrow. Better be sure of what you really want before you act on them.”

“Well, that’s vague enough”, Victor complained.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I really can’t give any plainer advice than this. It would be wholly unprofessional. But a very plain advice that I have given and will now repeat, is this: Talk to Yuuri. About your fears. About your desires. Lay it all out in the open for him. He deserves to know.”

 

Victor had really meant to do that, but when it came down to it, he felt too ashamed to bring any of it up in casual conversation. Not when things between them were, by all intents and purposes, blossoming. They had settled into a sort of easy routine. Yuuri left early in the morning and went to the rink to practice. Victor stayed at home. Ever since Maya had decided to have their sessions on skype, they switched them to mornings. On days when he didn’t have sessions, Victor lazily lay about on the couch with Makkachin, playing around with his phone, reading, watching movies or browsing the internet. He didn’t know what to do with all the free time he suddenly had. He wasn’t used to it, and felt bored by the inactivity, but not enough to do anything about it. The thought of going out for a run, or working out, or anything of the kind, exhausted him. Around 3 pm, Yuuri returned and they had lunch. Some days they went shopping, during other days they went to see Yuri, or their other rink mates, Yakov and Lilia. They took Makkachin out on long walks. They were intimate with each other in a slow and loving way. Things had started to feel almost like old times, except that Yuuri was infinitely more careful with Viktor, treating him like porcelain, tender and reverent. It got on Viktor’s nerves something fierce. He knew he was being ungrateful and ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. Sometimes he wanted to scream.

Then there was one day in which everything seemed to go wrong.

First of all, Makkachin was reluctant to go out on his morning run. This was odd because usually he was the first to get up and eagerly waiting to go outside. Now he just lay on the bed, and whined softly when Yuuri tried to move him.

“Victor”, Yuuri said, alarmed. “There’s something wrong with Makka.”

Victor came over, and looked at the dog, searchingly.

“What is it, Makkachin? What’s wrong, boy?”

“He might be sick. We should take him to the vet.”

“I’ll take him, Yuuri. You have to go to practice.”

“No, I want to come. I’ll just call Yakov and tell him I’ll be a little late today.”

Makkachin was still reluctant to move so Victor carried him to the car, where he promptly threw up, then cowered, with a guilty glance at Victor.

“Aww, Makka, you’re ill. I’m not mad at you, baby. Just be alright”, Victor crooned, as he wiped him down with some tissues, and petted him softly.

“I’ll drive slower, try not to jostle him so much”, Yuuri said.

Makkachin threw up two more times on the way to the vet, which had both Victor and Yuuri frantic with worry. They finally arrived to the vet where Victor usually took Makkachin to, and which fortunately had no customers and received them right away.

The doctor examined Makkachin, and asked about the symptoms, while Victor and Yuuri exchanged anxious glances. He took a black lump of something and mixed it with water. It fizzed sharply and dissolved, and the doctor made Makkachin swallow the muddy looking water. Makkachin winced and shook his head, but obediently swallowed it down when the doctor massaged his throat, and received a good petting in return.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Victor finally dared to ask.

“It looks like a bad case of indigestion”, the doctor answered. “Has he been eating something he shouldn’t have? Did you change his diet recently?”

Victor and Yuuri exchanged glances.

“N – no,” they both answered.

“Uh – he does get his nose into garbage he finds on the street from time to time”, Victor grimaced. “He’s always done this, can’t get him to stop, but he’s never....he’s never been sick like this.”

The doctor nodded.

“Well, there’s no knowing what he’s got his nose into this time.”

“Oh god, it’s my fault. Is he – is he going to be okay?”

“I think so, if yesterday evening he was fine and the symptoms only just started, then whatever stuff he's eaten shouldn’t have been able to do much damage yet. I gave him some activated charcoal just now which should dissolve whatever’s in his stomach that’s making him sick. He should be fine, but I’d like to keep him here until tomorrow to monitor his recovery.”

Victor nodded, listlessly. He bent down and kissed Makka on the top of the head.

“Be good, boy. I love you. Please be alright.”

 

Victor burst into tears on their way home, angry, guilty, despondent tears. The fact that Yuuri was so gentle with him as he tried to comfort him only made it worse. That something inside Victor that wanted to scream in angry frustration was simmering just beneath the surface, ready to come out.

Yuuri didn’t go to the rink that day, despite Victor’s repeated pleas that he should go, that he was alright – he called Yakov to say he wouldn’t make it, and hovered around Victor all day, solicitous and overprotective, like a mother hen.

Towards evening, Victor couldn’t stand it any longer and he jumped on Yuuri, kissing him fiercely, just to get a reaction out of him that wasn’t carefully guarded. Yuuri moaned, startled, and happily reciprocated, but slowed the pace. They ended up making love on the bed, and it would have been wonderful if Victor wasn’t so keyed up.

Yuuri was going slow, so very slow, his eyes never leaving Victor’s face as he moved inside him, taking in his every reaction.

Victor was tired of being watched. That dark and angry _something_ reared its ugly head again, reminding him that he didn’t deserve this anymore – Yuuri’s undivided attention and love, his infinite gentleness; driving him to ruin everything out of spite.

“Harder, Yuuri!” he spit out, clenching his fists in the sheets. “Yuuri....can you do something for me?”

“Yes, oh, anything, Victor!”

“Let’s try a different position. I want you to take me from behind this time, and go hard and fast. Be as rough as you want.”

“But... I don’t want to...be rough at all....”, Yuuri protested, eyes wide.

Victor continued, as if he hadn’t spoken:

“And I’ll keep arms behind my back and I want you to hold them there. Tightly.”

“Victor...”

“I need it hard, Yuuri. Surely you can speed up the pace a little? And please no ‘is it okay’s and ‘should I pull out?’ and stuff like you normally say. I’ll be sure to tell you if something’s wrong, yes?”

 

Yuuri had been somewhat prepared by a conversation with Maya to hear such words, so Victor’s request was not entirely unexpected, but it was still a great shock to actually hear it from Victor’s mouth. A few days ago, Maya had called him one morning while he was at the rink and asked to have a few minutes of his time. She told him Victor was going through a rough patch – such as they were bound to come across, during the long road to recovery, and it was important not to make him feel like his thoughts and desires, should he choose to share them with Yuuri, were problematic, since that would only amplify his guilt and general bad feelings about himself. 

“I wouldn’t betray the doctor-patient confidentiality by telling you this unless I fully believed that Victor is at a critical stage. He still harbors feelings of worthlessness and inadequacy, and now these thoughts and wishes he’s been having are both amplifying that _and_ feeding on that, like in a vicious circle.”

“What thoughts?” Yuuri had asked, bewildered. “What’s going on?”

“A sexual crime can leave the victim with conflicted thoughts and feelings”, Maya had answered. “One of the more debilitating feelings they struggle with is guilt. It is important not to make Victor feel guilty about his sexual desires, no matter how problematic they may seem to you. You should openly talk about things, what either of you is willing to do and the boundaries you want to set, including safewords. Lastly, don’t be surprised or alarmed if Victor suggests he wants to reenact the scene in some form. Having the scene, or aspects of it, played out in a safe, consensual environment, with a person he trusts, and who will stop anytime he wishes, could help Victor regain some control which was taken from him by the actual rape.”

“But isn’t this .... wrong?” Yuuri finally said, disturbed and anxious. He couldn’t believe his ears.

“You mean in terms of morality? Heck knows. I for one, have long stopped thinking in terms of morality when it comes to sex. Anything you want to do is fine as long as it’s consensual, doesn’t cause permanent harm or breaks laws. But, by all means, feel free to disagree. In fact, if you feel uncomfortable about what I just told you, then it’s a mistake to go along with what Victor wants just to indulge him. Perversely, that would be a form of self-abuse, Yuuri.”

“So then what do I do? Because hell yeah, I feel very uncomfortable about what you just told me that he wants.”

“You must discuss it, and set boundaries in the realm of what you’re both comfortable with, and go from there. Compromises will inevitably have to be made, so that the respective boundaries are not crossed, but then again, that’s true of all relationships and situations, isn’t it?”

Maya had made it seem much simpler than how it actually felt to Yuuri. To him, it felt muddled and somehow demeaning. He fervently hoped this was just a phase Victor would overcome soon, and he would never have to deal with this.

 

And now – Victor was asking him – he was _actually asking this of Yuuri,_ seemingly out of the blue.

Yuuri knew he should feel pleased that Victor trusted him enough to propose this to him, but he didn’t feel worthy of that trust, and he certainly didn’t feel up to the task. Maya was right: they should’ve talked about this first. Yuuri backed off slowly, unconsciously putting some distance between Victor and himself.

“I’m not sure I can do this”, he mumbled, not meeting Victor’s eyes. “Not right now.”

Victor took in Yuuri’s hesitant words and avoiding motions and felt that dark and spiteful _something_ roar to life inside him, all the pent-up bitterness pouring out, undiluted:

“Couldn’t you at least try?” he snapped. “For me? Couldn’t you at least pretend that you want me, for once – instead of doing it like it’s some sort of duty? Or do you come with just one factory setting?"

Yuuri’s vision darkened at Victor’s hurtful words:

“Is that what you think? That I don’t really want you?”

Victor drummed his fingers on the mattress, nervously. His head was pounding. He wanted to tell Yuuri everything that was on his mind, absolutely everything, but he also felt exhausted.

“...Forget it”, he finally said, and stood up abruptly.

“Eh?” Yuuri reacted, as he was pushed aside.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while”, Victor said, as he slowly began to get dressed. “It hurts to say it but it’s for the best. You’ve been so very nice and lovely all this time, and I appreciate it, I do. You mustn’t think I’m ungrateful. But I don’t think you’re in love with me, just with an idea of me that you’ve had ever since you first saw me on tv, and it’s become larger than life and and you’ve kept it with you for all this time.... I’m not doubting the strength of your feelings or your honesty....I just think you’re confused. And now,” Victor chuckled sadly, “when it becomes clearer and clearer that I am far from that image you love and admire.... well, it’s not fair to you, or to me, for that matter, to keep deceiving ourselves like this.”

Yuuri remained on the bed, mouth agape, struggling to make sense of the words. The world was blurring at the edges, and the room seemed to shake. He blinked fast, trying to keep his head. What was Victor _saying?_

“I’m not really the person you love, Yuuri, and it’s getting so tiring for me to try to be.”

“Stop right there, Victor. Just – sit down and let’s talk about this. I don’t understand a word you’re saying. I don’t understand any of it. Just.... who do you think I want you to be? Other than exactly who you are? Haven’t I told you, time and time again, that I don’t want you to play any role, only to be yourself, and stand by me?”

Victor smiled sadly.

“That’s just it, Yuuri. You aren’t even aware of projecting these expectations, but believe me: you are.”

“Projecting....what? Victor, you’re getting too clever for me ever since you’ve started therapy, it’s unfair”, Yuuri tried to joke.

“Oh, and Maya agrees with me, by the way.”

“Did Maya tell you that you should break up with me?” Yuuri asked, outraged.

“Not as such, but she did tell me that I need to do whatever I feel is right. And this is right. I’m sorry for selfishly hanging on to you for so long, but I’ve been weak. I’m still weak when it comes to you, so please don’t make this any harder, Yuuri.”

“Victor, _please_ \- just tell me, please tell me - what am I not doing right? And I’ll try to do better, I promise. Please give me a chance!”

Victor gave a shuddering gasp like Yuuri’s words were hurting him. The dark and bitter something that had squirmed so abruptly to life inside him had faded away, appeased by Yuuri’s stunned, crestfallen face, and only sorrow remained. But Victor hardened his heart and kept on going. _Like ripping off a band-aid_ , he thought.

“This isn't like coaching, Yuuri", he forced out eventually, with a sad smile. "There's nothing that I want you to change. You’re a gift that I don’t deserve. But what you _do_ deserve is someone genuine and who will give you everything you wish for.”

“You’re not making any sense!” Yuuri screamed hysterically. “What’s going on, Victor, where is all this coming from all of a sudden? Is it because of the sex thing? For crying out loud, you can’t just spring something like this on me and expect me to go with it right away! You have to at least give me some time! It’s unfair.”

“It’s not because of the sex thing”, Victor said quietly. "Or not only just."

He had finished putting all his clothes on, right down to his socks and shoes, and moved towards the door.

Yuuri frantically jumped out of bed, moving in front of the door to block his way, as if afraid Victor was going to walk right out of his life and never be seen again.

“No – No, wait! What is it then? At least tell me what I’ve done to make you think that I don’t love the real you! What expectations do I have that you can’t meet?” he angrily shouted in Victor’s face.

“Please, let’s not argue”, Victor said, trying not to look into Yuuri's chocolate brown eyes. _Don't look into his eyes,_ he repeated to himself, _or you'll never have the strength to go through with this._

Yuuri slammed a fist into the door frame in frustration, and Victor couldn’t help flinching. Sudden violent movements were still making him uneasy.

“Sorry”, Yuuri said immediately, but he didn’t move away from the doorway. He dropped his gaze, looking like he desperately tried to gather his thoughts, and Victor saw his eyes widening as he looked up again, holding Victor’s gaze, as he bit out: “This is about skating, isn’t it, Victor? Isn’t it??”

Victor lowered his eyes, and didn’t reply. _Clever Yuuri,_ he thought.

Yuuri took his silence as a yes, as in fact it was, and before Victor knew what was happening, he went off, talking fast and increasingly distressed:

“Oh no. Oh, I should’ve known. It’s all about skating, all of it! I’ve been so stupid! Victor, if you knew....how many times I’ve regretted....that night in Barcelona, god, you were right, I was so selfish! But I genuinely thought this is what you wanted, Victor – please, you must believe me. I know better now! I wish I could take it all back, I do, now none of this would’ve happened, none of it! I just--- god I wish— I never – started that conversation – That – stupid conversation, that started everything – I’m so – sorry – I-“, Yuuri broke off abruptly, unable to go on – he was heaving desperate breaths trying to forestall the panic attack that was rapidly approaching. His body slid down against the door, tears pouring down his face, heaving sobs racking his frame, his entire body trembling with the force of his misery.

“Yuuri!” Victor shouted, worried, getting down on his knees in front of Yuuri. “Yuuri, are you okay?”

Victor leaned in and enveloped Yuuri into a hug, but this didn’t work this time, Yuuri was too far gone. He couldn’t seem to stop crying, and his erratic breathing turned to wheezing, as he started to have trouble getting air inside his lungs.

“Yuuri, oh my god”, Victor reacted, as he pulled back, tugging hard at his own hair in distress. “Yuuri! What should I do?? Should I call an ambulance?”

Yuuri shook his head frantically, clenching his tear-filled eyes briefly shut.

“Then how can I help you, baby, please tell me?” Victor begged.

“S-stay wi-with m-me”, Yuuri barely managed to force out.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby”, Victor answered, collapsing next to him on the floor. “You got me. I’m not leaving. Just please, please be okay. Shh. It’s alright. I’m here. I’m not leaving my Yuuri. Shh. Breathe, Yuuri. It’s okay.”

Yuuri squeezed Victor’s fingers tightly as he fought to control his breathing.

“Shhh. Shhh”, Victor repeated nonsensically, as he squeezed back, his heart breaking as he watched Yuuri struggle.

They stayed there on the floor, clutching each other, for several minutes, while Yuuri’s breathing gradually became steadier and his harsh sobs subsided.

“Victor, we need to talk”, Yuuri eventually said, voice ragged and wrecked.

“Yuuri – it’s alright, I – I’m sorry, I’m _so sorry,_ baby.... I- shouldn’t have- I’ll stay-“

“No, Victor. We need to talk about this, calmly and reasonably, so that we both know what the other one really wants. Then, if you still want to leave, I won’t stand in your way.”

“We’ll talk tomorrow, Yuuri. You’re in no state to –“

“No. We’ll talk right now. Let me just put some clothes on.”

“Okay”, Victor agreed, caressing Yuuri’s hair. “But let me make you a cup of tea first, hmm? I’ll make us both some tea. And I’ll put some honey in it, and don’t even think about complaining, it’ll be good for your throat.”

Yuuri scowled, but then shrugged.

“Okay”, he relented.

When Yuuri first learnt that Victor had the habit of putting honey in his herbal tea, he made fun of him for days, and made exaggerated gagging noises whenever Victor wanted to make him try it out. Eventually, Yuuri did try it once and admitted it didn’t taste that bad, but he still found it weird. Victor had said it was because Yuuri wasn’t used to it, but he’ll soon learn that it was heavenly, especially during winter evenings, and it did wonders for colds and flu.

Yuuri remained on the floor until the pleasing aroma of the infusion of herbs mixed with lemon and honey filled the room. Then he sighed and stood up. He found his pants and t-shirt and put them on mechanically, then joined Victor at the table. Victor was watching him warily, like he wanted to touch him, but was afraid to. He nodded towards the empty seat next to him, but Yuuri took his cup and took a seat across the table, avoiding the proximity. Victor’s face twisted a little, but then he nodded, sadly. They faced each other across the table, with similarly wary, tired expressions.

Yuuri thought that ever since this whole thing started, he had never felt so helpless as he did right then. It felt as if he hadn’t allowed the panic and sadness in his heart to take over, not wholly, because he knew he needed to be strong for Victor. But now, faced with the possibility that Victor would leave him, there was nothing for him to do but give in to the sorrow and fear. It hurt to have this conversation, it hurt so much, but Yuuri needed to know – they needed to have it all out in the open.

“So. It’s about skating, isn’t it?” he repeated his earlier words, this time with a deadly sort of calm.

Victor fidgeted in his seat, and hesitated to reply for a while. But eventually he looked up, and his eyes were clear and steady:

“I don’t want to go back to skating. It’s what everyone wants and expects of me. The whole world. Yuri, Yakov, and you – most of all, _you_. I tried to hard to give you what you want. But I just don’t feel it anymore. I’m just going through the motions. The things Sarychev said to me.... a few years ago I would’ve ignored them. They would’ve been meaningless to me, I would have laughed in his face. But now, it’s like he saw inside my deepest darkest fears. He said them out loud to me and suddenly – they started to become true. And now I can’t think back upon a time when they _weren’t_ true. It’s all tainted now - like that stupid costume that you’re hidden somewhere, but I want to find it and burn it... Everything is tainted.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Yuuri said automatically, then bit his tongue. He wasn’t going to do this, he wasn’t going to push his own ideas and wishes on Victor anymore.

Victor shook his head sadly.

“I know I’m disappointing you. I’m taking something away from you. I’m taking Victor Nikiforov from you. The only Victor Nikiforov you’ve ever known and loved-“

Yuuri wanted to protest, but Victor held up a hand.

“I am going to stop skating competitively. You won’t get to compete with me after all, Yuuri. I’m sorry. I can’t give you what you want. And I want to stay out of the public eye for a while, and that means no coaching you, either. In these conditions, I don’t think I really have anything to offer you anymore. The entire reason for your being here, the whole meaning of our relationship is gone. I can no longer serve my purpose as someone who inspires you, and you will want to spread your wings even further, and you should – you have such potential, Yuuri, that must not be wasted, you will want to search for other people who inspire you and guide you. You’re such a good, kind man, that you will no doubt want to stay with me out of pity, at first. Maybe you’ll even persuade yourself this is what you really want. But being with me will only keep you chained, it will hold you back. I still have enough integrity in me to see it coming and let you go. I’ll forever treasure these moments in my heart, Yuuri. You have taught me life and love. I will never forget you.”

Yuuri took a sip of his tea, his hands shaking.

“Well, it looks like you have it all worked out, then. There’s really nothing more I can say, is there?” he replied, coldly. “You have all your bases covered.” His words dripped with sarcasm but he couldn’t stop himself, he had to sound like that or else he’d start crying again. “If I try to persuade you to stay, I do it out of _pity_ , if I tell you there’s nothing more I want than to be with you, I’m just being _kind,_ if I swear on everything I have that I love the real you, the one I’ve come to know last year, and who is nothing like the Victor Nikiforov in the public eye, and skating be _god fucking damned_ , then I guess I’m just being _confused_. You know _sooo_ well what I want and need, better than myself, apparently.”

Yuuri's earlier shock had given way to an intense annoyance and Yuuri indulged in it. It didn’t help that Victor remained silent in answer to his obvious goading.

“But what about _you_ , Victor, do _you_ want this relationship? Or is all this speech just an excuse, to save you from confessing you don’t want me anymore?”

“Yuuri _ii_ ”, Victor protested on a hurt whine, eyes still downcast.

“What do you really want, Victor, tell me – other than to quit skating and get fucked like a cheap slut?”

Victor’s eyes finally snapped up at that, the color draining from his face.

But Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to apologize, and only felt vindicated at shocking him. Tit for tat.

“Thank you for saying that”, Victor said. “It somehow makes this a little easier.” He ran his fingers along the handle of his cup of tea, as he spoke. “I think we should spend some time apart form each other. Part of what I _want_ , Yuuri, is some time alone. So I think I’ll go away for a while. Please don’t try to call me, I won’t answer. If there’s anything that you really need to tell me, send me a message.”

“What do you mean you’ll go away? This is your apartment”, Yuuri pointed out.

“And you are free to stay here as long as you want. I only need some space, and none of the commodities this apartment offers and a hotel can't easily provide. Besides, you’re doing a much better job at taking care of Makkachin than I do.”

“Wait a second....you want me to...?”

“Please leave me a message when you bring him back home from the vet. I know I don’t have the right to ask this of you, but please take care of him for now, while you’re staying here.”

Yuuri’s annoyance gave way to bewilderment:

“You know you don’t need to ask me that. I’ll do it. But –“ he frowned; this whole thing got stranger by the minute.

“I really do need some time alone”, Victor repeated, sounding more apologetic this time. “I want to think things out, away from any sort of pressure.”

Hearing Victor talking about pressure was enough to bring back Yuuri’s vexation, and he stepped down on his reluctance to let Victor go.

“As you wish”, he said, forcing his voice to ring out with a steadiness he did not feel. “Go right ahead. But you should know I won’t be in your apartment for long. I’ll start looking for flats first thing tomorrow. Worst case scenario, I’ll share with Yuri. I’ll send you a message when I move out.”

“You can stay here for as long as you want, Yuuri,” Victor repeated.

“Maybe, but I don’t want to.”

Victor nodded, dejectedly, then finished the last of his tea and stood up. He went upstairs into one of the guest rooms and returned with a bag.

“Fuck...”, Yuuri reacted. “You had it prepared. You had all this planned. You –“

“I didn’t plan for it to happen like this, believe me. But this is as good a time as any. Goodbye, Yuuri.”

Yuuri didn’t answer, just wordlessly picked up the two cups of tea, and took them back to the kitchen to wash them, refusing to look at Victor.

Victor gave him a long look, then turned and moved towards the door. He unlocked it and opened it halfway, but didn’t get to make it outside. The door was slammed open all the way, and Victor was pushed back inside, with a startled cry. Several men stepped inside the apartment, with purpose and determination, like they belonged there. The door was slammed shut again, once all four of them had entered. Victor stared, too shocked to react, while one of the men addressed him:

“We were just about to break in the door, but thanks for making it easy for us, sweetheart.”

“What the hell?” Yuuri shouted, as he came out of the kitchen, alarmed. “Who are you? What do you want? Did Sarychev send you?”

“Sarychev who?”

“I don’t know anybody named Sarychev. Do you know anybody named Sarychev?”

“Naaaah.”

They laughed.

“Is that mutt of yours around?” one of them kicked Makkachin’s empty bowl, turning it over.

“I told you I took care of the mutt, Peskov.”

“I’m calling the police”, Yuuri announced and pulled out his phone.

Two of them pounced on Yuuri immediately, grabbing him and twisting his hand back, until the phone dropped to the ground.

“Let’s see about _your_ phone now”, one of the others said to Victor and started feeling him up. The phone was easily found in one of his pockets, but the hands didn’t stop. “You’re just as pretty as in the pictures, you are”, he leered at Victor, who still couldn’t find a voice to scream, even as he was grabbed around the neck and dragged towards the bedroom.

“Don’t! Leave him alone!” Yuuri was yelling, fighting like mad, biting and kicking. “Don’t hurt him!”

Victor was thrown on the bed and his hands tied to the headboard.

“Hope your bed is comfortable. You’re gonna be spending a lot of time on it.”

Victor could still hear Yuuri’s shrieks from the other room, through the haze of his own blind terror, followed by jeers and shouts.  

Yuuri had succeeded in escaping momentarily, but all of the exists were blocked, and three of the four thugs were ready to pounce back on him. He turned and ran madly up the stairs, looking for anything which he could use as a weapon along the way, but two of them sprang immediately after him, hot on his heels, and they grabbed him just as he made for the storage room. They pinned him down at the top of the stairs and started tying his arms and legs.

“There, all trussed up like a piggy!” one of them laughed.

“I’ll kill you! I swear, you’re dead, all of you, dead!” Yuuri was screaming, voice angry and out of control like Victor had never heard him before.

“You make a lot of threats for someone who can’t move his arms or legs, sweetheart,” came the jeering reply.

“I like him. He’s feisty. He’s gonna be a lot of fun.”

“So do we fuck them or kill them?”

“Who says we can’t do both?”

“Idiots, we’re not going to kill them. Just break a few bones!”

“Relax, Gorbikov, I was just joking! Trust you not to have a sense of humor! And don’t call me an idiot unless you want a knife in your belly, alright?”

“We did say we were gonna fuck them first. I mean, what’s the fun otherwise?”

“Where’s Vanek? He’s not starting without us, is he?”

There was a rustle of cloth which brought Victor’s attention back from the voices outside to the man standing beside him. He had taken out his half hard cock, and was stroking it, staring hungrily at Victor. His other hand grabbed the back of Victor’s head and pushed his cock towards Victor’s lips.

“Open your fucking mouth”, the man - Vanek- whispered, on a threatening tone.

He pinched Victor's nose, while Victor struggled to hold his breath and keep his mouth tightly shut, his vision blurring.

“What the fuck are you doing?” one of his mates shouted, looming in the doorway to take in the scene.

“What the fuck does it look like? I’m trying to feed him my cock.”

“Are you a moron? He’s gonna bite it off. Good luck with that!”

“Huh”, Vanek said, as if that hadn’t occurred to him. “Nah, he wouldn’t. Gonna kill him if he does.”

“Yeah, and you’re gonna be missing half your dick”, another piped in, laughing.

“You’re all retards”, Gorbikov decided, joining them into the room. “Let’s just do what we came here to do and leave. I’ve got a bad feeling about all this.”

“I’m not leaving anytime soon”, Vanek said. “Sarychev told me a great deal about this one”, he slapped his cock against Victor’s tightly shut lips, meeting his terrified gaze, “yeah, enough to get me worked up. And once he stops playing so hard to get, I intend to see if he’s really that good. Gonna be taking my time about it, too. You can have the other one.”

Victor clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Why should you be the only one who gets to fuck him?”

“Hey, guys, guys, let’s not fight. We can take turns, okay? Sheesh. I like the feisty one better anyway.”

“Listen here, morons”, Gorbikov spoke up enraged, then stopped abruptly. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“There was a noise.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“Who’s watching the other one?”

“He’s all tied up, he can do nothing.”

“Did you lock the door behind you? Vanek, you came in last.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

Vanek huffed, and rolled his eyes, then turned his attention back to Victor. He backhanded him, hard.

“Open your mouth and suck my cock, or I get right to breaking your spine.”

“Not if I break yours first,” a familiar voice said fiercely, and suddenly Yakov was there in the room, surrounded by three security guards.

The four thugs were so taken aback that they were relatively easy to subdue.

“You should have locked the door behind you, fucking idiots!”, Gorbikov wailed, as he was pinned down.

Vanek received a strong punch from Yakov himself, who then stepped on his fingers until the crunching of bones was heard, amid screaming. Yakov bent over to make himself heard through the noise and spit out, disdainfully:

“He’s right, you know. You really are idiots. And if you thought I’d leave my star pupil, whom I love as a son, unprotected after what happened to him, you’re even bigger idiots than you look. I’ve had someone watching this place ever since this happened to Vitya back in January.”

“Yakov??” Yuuri shouted, from upstairs. “Is that you, Yakov? Oh thank god!”

“Yuuri? Are you alright?” Yakov shouted, then he motioned to one of the security guards. “Go and see if Yuuri’s alright, check the rest of the rooms for any others. We’re fine here.”

“Now...”, Yakov continued, switching his attention back to the men on the floor, “we can do one of two things. We can involve the police, or – my personal favorite – we don’t involve the police.”

“No, no police, please!”

Yakov snickered, appearing pleased, and nodded to the security guards.

“Very well, then. You heard these gentlemen, Plan B it is -“

Yuuri ran into the room, rubbing his wrists, and launched himself at Victor immediately, ignoring everyone else.

“Are you alright??” he shouted, face crumpled with worry, hands hovering over Victor tentatively. “Uhhh wait...” He fumbled with the knots tying Victor’s hands to the headboard. “Victor, please say you aren’t hurt, he didn’t...?”

Try as he may, Victor still couldn’t find his voice. He worked to unclench his jaw, tongue still heavy in his mouth and tried to form words but eventually settled on shaking his head. Then he chanced a look at Yakov, frowning. He was probably delirious with shock, but he could swear he heard his coach say something in a low tone to one of the security guards, something along the lines of ‘Siberia salt mines.’ He wanted to ask Yakov what it was that he really said, because he was sure he had misunderstood, but Yakov continued speaking, and this time there was no room for misinterpretation:

“Pick up Sarychev too, along the way. Break his fingers first.”

Victor’s eyes went wide.

After the security guards left, dragging the thugs along, Yakov finally turned to face Victor and Yuuri. Yuuri had succeeded in untying Victor’s hands and had pulled him into a fierce hug.

"I was so afraid, so afraid", he babbled, holding onto Victor for dear life, breathing Victor's name into his neck over and over. 

Victor shuddered, as he returned the hug. He had frozen with shock, but Yuuri's crushing, desperate grip, sent a surge of heat through him, forcing back some clarity into his mind. He tried to speak again, and this time a word came to him, faint but clear:

"Yuuri," he heard himself whisper.

“We have to go”, Yakov said tersely in English.

Yuuri pulled back just enough to look at him.

“Go where? The police?”

“Not quite”, Yakov grimaced. “I’ll drive you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Yuuri and Victor hurled some hurtful words at each other, as people having arguments are wont to do, often without meaning them, and definitely regretting them afterwards.  
> Also, rest assured that Makka is OKAY. Just some stomachache, and he'll be fine <3 Besides, everyone knows that Makkachin is immortal. :D


	12. Steel Blue

 

Steel Blue

 

Victor was still shivering from time to time as they stepped inside Yakov’s car. He wasn’t cold, not really. Or he didn’t think he was. But all the same, he couldn’t stop his body from giving into these nervous shivers from time to time. Yuuri bundled him up in a blanket he found there on the backseat, and wrapped an arm around him. Victor felt some measure of warmth come back to him, but not enough to stop shivering. Soon enough, Yuuri reached the same decision that their proximity wasn’t enough, because he huffed and half-turned to sit with his back against the window, so he could pull Victor even closer against him, his left arm locked around his waist and his right hand curled in strands of silver hair, pressing Victor’s head to Yuuri’s chest, protectively. It reminded Victor of another time when Yuuri had him wrapped up in his jacket to stop his shivering. It felt like that happened in a nightmare or in another lifetime. Victor had felt so miserable and broken back then, like struggling with a pervasive fever. Whereas now.... tendrils of panic and shock still lingered, fear for Yuuri’s safety seemingly a more bitter pill to swallow than fear for his own, but his mind remained sharp, his eyes open and clear. The negative emotions weren’t debilitating or all-consuming like before, so Victor half wanted to argue that he didn’t need to be fussed over. But being held by Yuuri felt so good – and it was a blessing he hadn’t counted on, being able to have this again, no matter how briefly. Victor decided he’d allow himself this – the comfort, the closeness of the man he loved, for a little while more, and burrowed his face into Yuuri’s chest, hands clutching at his back.

Yakov looked at them in the rearview mirror.

“Are the two of you alright?” he asked.

“As well as can be expected”, Yuuri huffed. “Victor?”

“Yes”, Victor answered, muffled by Yuuri’s shirt. “Thank you, Yakov. If you hadn’t arrived...”

Yakov nodded and returned his attention to the road, but Yuuri saw this as an opening to repeat his earlier questions.

“Yakov, who were these people? Where are we going?” he prodded.

“Out for a coffee”, Yakov snapped, on a tone which said, stop asking questions, this conversation is suspended until I say otherwise.

“Yakov”, Yuuri whined. “At least tell us how far.”

“It will take a while”, Yakov said, shortly.

Yuuri sighed and gave up. He looked down at Victor, and whispered softly:

“Hey. Alright?”

“Mmhm”, Victor answered.

“Are you tired?” Yuuri asked, running his fingers through his fiance’s hair.

Victor shrugged.

“You can close your eyes, try to get some sleep if you can. I’ll wake you when we get there – wherever it is”, Yuuri continued, rolling his eyes slightly. “You’ve had a rough day.”

“So have you”, Victor answered.

“I know. We both did.”

“Yuuri –“

“Don’t. No, just – let’s not speak of it – of anything for now. Let’s just sit like this.”

It was no more than Victor wanted, and he relented. He didn’t think he’d manage to doze off, but he closed his eyes and soon Yuuri’s comforting warmth and the silence in the car lulled him into a light sleep.

Victor blinked awake some time later – he didn’t know how long – on hearing Yuuri’s anxious voice.

“Yakov, we’ve been circling the city center for a while now,” Yuuri was saying. “What’s going on?”

“We’re waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“A signal. Don’t worry, I’m looking out for it.”

Yuuri frowned.

“Yakov, what’s happening? I really don’t like this.”

“There it is. Now, we follow that car.”

“Follow it where?? Can you please tell me everything there is to know? This is really not a good time for riddles! My nerves are in shreds!”

“Relax, Yuuri.”

“Relax, yeah sure! I’ve just been tied up and knocked around in my own home, my dog has been poisoned and my fiance –“ he broke off, looking at Victor, then clamped his mouth shut.

“Is Makkachin alright?” Yakov asked, a note of anger in his voice.

“The vet said he’s going to be fine”, Victor said, quietly.

Yakov’s hands tightened on the steering wheel:

“There will be _hell_ to pay.”

“Yakov, your cryptic attitude is beginning to creep me out as well”, Victor said. “I heard some words earlier this evening that I never thought I’d hear coming from your mouth.”

“And hopefully, you’ll never get to hear them again”, Yakov snapped. “Now, stop distracting me. I need to pay attention to the road.”

The car they were following had switched its lights off as it turned onto a side road, and Yakov turned its own car lights off as well, as it followed at a close distance, stealthily, through the night.

Yuuri opened his mouth to comment on this, then changed his mind and only shook his head, with a sigh. He tightened his hold on Victor, who was by now entirely awake and intrigued. But he trusted Yakov with his life, so there was no concern, only curiosity. They did not have long to wait. Soon enough, the car in front of them made another turn and entered an enclosure. Yakov’s car stopped right outside. With a grunt, Yakov stopped the engine, and opened the car door.

“Come on out”, he said to Victor and Yuuri.

Victor squeezed Yuuri’s hand, to show him he fully trusted everything will be okay, and shook the blanket off his shoulders as he stepped out of the car. Yuuri followed him.

The enclosure contained what looked like an abandoned warehouse. They could hear voices and some scattered lights ahead, that appeared to be flashlights, but they fumbled in the darkness until Yakov located and turned on a light switch. The large room was suddenly bathed in light and Victor blinked in surprise. The men who saved them along with Yakov were there – Victor supposed he would never learn their names to thank them. The men who wanted to hurt them were also there.... Vanek, Peskov, Gorbikov, and the other – Victor would probably never find out his name either. Not that he wanted to. He had hoped never to see them again, but now they were there, within reach, each of them gagged and hogtied on the ground. And there was someone else there too – someone whose face Victor couldn’t see clearly, a little further apart from the others, kneeling, hands tied behind his back.

Victor turned to Yakov, hesitantly.

“What is this, Yakov?” he whispered, in Russian.

“Vitya, I brought you here because I wanted you to see this. And you as well, Yuuri.”

The figure hunched on the floor moved slightly, lifting his head and Victor could now see who it was. His hair was hanging messily over his face, but there was no mistaking that here was the man who had a starring role in Victor’s nightmares often enough: Andrey Sarychev.

Victor swayed on his feet, panic threatening to overtake him. Yakov’s voice came to him as if from far away.

“Vitya, if you don’t want to be here, then Yuuri will take you home right away. But I thought you should know, right now, _he_ is at your mercy.”

Victor digested these words, while studying Sarychev curiously, with undisguised loathing. He circled him carefully, keeping his distance, noticing that blood was dripping from his fingertips, and he was sporting several bruises. Bound and gagged, kneeling on the floor, he didn’t look as menacing as Victor remembered him.

“Not such a big bully now, is he?” Yakov said, as if reading his mind. “You can make him grovel. Make him lick the dirt off the floor. Or just punch him in the balls.”

Sarychev glared at them, muttering behind the gag.

“I don’t – I don’t want to touch him”, Victor said.

“Of course not. Someone else would do the touching. What would you like to happen to him?”

Victor paled, and several seconds passed, while he struggled with himself.

“...I don’t know.”

“Think. It’s all in your power.”

“I don’t – I – I’m sick and tired of violence. I just want him as far away as possible. I want all this to stop. I want him to stop.... existing.”

“Deal”, Yakov answered, relieved. “That will certainly be arranged, seeing as I’ve already anticipated and made plans for that.”

He addressed Sarychev:

“You and your pals are going on an extended vacation. Somewhere up north where the weather’s a little chilly so you better bring your mittens. I think you’ll like it. Lots of fresh air, lots of resistance training, beautiful scenery – all white, as far as your eyes can see. You’re strong lads so you’re gonna last a while, I imagine. It’ll be the salt mines first. If you’re good, you’ll graduate to logging camps. And don’t even think you can catch a train back to civilization. People who go there, go there to die. Even if they return, they find their will to live is gone. A plane of nonexistence indeed.”

Victor shuddered.

Yakov approached Sarychev and took off his gag:

“Now, do you have anything to say to Vitya? Do you want to beg for mercy?”

Sarychev gulped a few breaths. There was pain and wariness in his eyes but also mutiny.

“I’m sorry –“, he mumbled, automatically.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it”, Yakov broke in fiercely. “Beg. Grovel.”

“You can’t possibly think you’ll get away with this!” Sarychev spoke up, angrily.

“Why not? _You_ got away with what _you_ did,” Yakov answered contemptuously.

“People will be looking for me, they’ll be asking questions.”

“They will, for a while. Then they’ll forget about you.”

“Why would I beg then, if you already have your mind made up?”

“It’s Vitya you have to convince, not me.”

Sarychev looked askance at Victor, as if weighing his odds. Whatever he saw in Victor’s face, a mixture of disgust, fear and hatred, made his own features harden. He turned back to Yakov.

“Nah. He wants to see me dead, or worse. It’s useless. You just wanna see me humiliate myself, you mean old man. Won’t give you the satisfaction. Go ahead and send me wherever. Like you said – I’m strong, I can take it. I’m not a weakling, unlike _some_.” He looked up at Victor again, with a sneer: “You know what’s gonna keep me warm at nights, though? The knowledge that you can’t stop thinking about me, that time I had you underneath me-“

Yakov hit him hard across the face, and brandished the gag.

“I think it’s time this went back in. It was a mistake to have thought you could behave civilly.”

“No, wait”, Yuuri cut in. “Just a moment. I want to ask him something.”

Yakov and Victor stared at him aghast.

“How does one come to this?” Yuuri asked, quietly. “You were Victor’s fan, I read your interviews. How do you go from worshiping him to wanting to hurt him?”

“Yuuri, forget about it”, Yakov advised him.

Sarychev’s features twisted in a sort of angry frustration.

“How the fuck should I know?” he growled, resentfully. “Don’t you think I asked myself the same? Do you think I hold all the fucking answers? Just ask God. Haha, yeah. Ask him. You wanna know something though? It’s not fair.”

Yakov shook his head in exasperation and moved to gag Sarychev but Yuuri put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“What’s not fair?” Yuuri insisted, struggling to understand what Sarychev was saying.

“It’s not fair that some people have everything! Talent, fame, beauty, they achieve the things you want the most, so effortlessly, while you have to sweat blood to achieve even half of that...”

“If you think it was effortless,” Victor whispered, “you couldn’t be more wrong.”

“But you made it look like it was!” Sarychev spluttered. “You made it seem so easy...“

He was actually crying now, spit gathering at the corner of his mouth and big messy tears he couldn’t wipe away, while Victor, Yuuri and Yakov stared at him, aghast.

“You’ve led me on!” Sarychev shouted at Victor. “You made me think... it was all a fairytale, you made me believe....things that weren’t true! What’s true is only pain and disappointment, and more pain. And envy. God, how the envy eats at one! And you – always you, at the center of everything, how I wished I could ignore you, how I wished I could let it all go. But no, you always had to be _there_ , beckoning me onward, and it seemed like, a few more steps and I’d make it, if I only pushed a little more, then I’d reach you.”

Yuuri couldn’t help an audible gasp at those words.

“Wait”, Victor said, brow furrowed, as he struggled to reconcile what he was just hearing with the past events. “But you told me, repeatedly, that I wasn’t that good. You said I was making mistakes. And I believed you. You were right. I thought you of all people saw things clearly, how age was catching up with me and...”

“Are you an idiot?” Sarychev burst out. “I only said those things to get you worked up, so you could feel the same hurt I was feeling, so you’d feel unsettled, then maybe you’d trip on the ice and land on your ass...”

“You fucking bastard”, Yakov interrupted, his teeth gritting audibly. “God, you’re even more of a dirty son of a bitch than I thought – I’m gonna fucking destroy you...”

He made a move towards Sarychev again, but Yuuri grasped his arm tighter in an almost painful grip.

“Wait, Yakov!” Yuuri shouted. “Tell him!” he addressed Sarychev. “Tell Victor he has no reason to worry, that he’s as good as he’s always been! Take it all back right now and tell him the truth!”

Sarychev stared, bewildered. His tears dried up as the realization slowly dawned on him, and his mouth curled into an unpleasant grin.

“Please?” Yuuri hesitated. “He needs to hear it from you. You as good as admitted it, just... say the words...”

“Ohhh, so that’s how it is, eh?” Sarychev drawled, his earlier misery giving way to a look of immense satisfaction. He gave a loud abrupt laugh. “Did I really get to you that much, doll? In more ways than one, eh?” he smirked at Victor. “You’ve no idea how happy that makes me. It almost makes everything worthwhile. So listen here, Victor Nikiforov, national hero, living legend. All the things I’ve said to you – _I meant every single one_. Age is catching up with you and you should quit while you’re still ahead. People judge your worth only by your past achievements and they indulge you just because you’re pretty. You’re like a classic car that’s long been outshined by newer models, but I’d sure like to take you for a ride one more ti-“

“That’s it!” Yakov bellowed. “I refuse to listen to this bastard any more!” He wrenched his arm from Yuuri’s grip and shoved the gag in Sarychev’s mouth, tying it cruelly tight. Sarychev choked. “You’re lucky you’re out of fingers to break, but there’s still your toes. I may just change my mind about sending you on holiday. I might just take care of your problems permanently tonight!”

Yakov’s eyes still blazed furiously as he turned, rummaging in his pocket, and passed a speechless Yuuri the keys to his car.

“Yuuri, take Vitya home, please,” he said, shortly.

“Yakov, what are you – what if – the police....?”

“Don’t worry, Vitya. I have friends owing me favors.”

“Yakov, I don’t want anything happening to you, this isn’t worth it.”

“I alone in the world am fit to decide your worth, Vitya. We’ll talk later. Now go with Yuuri, please.”

Victor lingered, face screwed up in a childish grimace of sorrow.

“I told you”, Yakov repeated, “everything will be alright. Trust me. Now go, you stubborn child!”

“Please, Yakov, I can’t lose you, too.”

“Yuuri, take Vitya out of here _right now.”_

 

~

“You know nothing of what Sarychev said is true, don’t you, Victor?” Yuuri said, throwing Victor an anxious look.

They were driving home in Yakov’s car. Victor was staring listlessly out the window, seemingly lost in thought, and gave no indication of having heard Yuuri, who continued, undeterred:

“He’s just spiteful. He basically admitted all the things he said to you were big fat lies. He’s been living in your shadow all this time and he-“

“Yuuri – stop. Please. I’m tired. I don’t want to have this conversation now.”

Yuuri nodded.

“Of course. Alright. Only I... Can I ask you something, please? Can we just... stay together for tonight. I can’t.... uh, I ... just for tonight, Victor. Please. And then we’ll go and bring Makkachin back from the vet tomorrow... he’s gonna wanna see you, Victor, he’ll miss you....”

“Alright.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you”, Yuuri breathed, relieved, then turned his attention back to the road. “God, I have no idea where we are.” He took out his phone and turned on the GPS.

 

When they finally arrived home, Yuuri slunk towards the couch.

“I’m just gonna take my stuff and –“

“Yuuri, what are you doing?” Victor frowned.

“What? I’m sleeping here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous”, Victor snapped, then he added, more gently: “Please, Yuuri, come to bed.”

Yuuri hesitated, wanting to reply, but Victor held out his arms to him quietly, and he gave in. They lay together, breathing each other in. It didn’t take long for both of them to fall into a heavy sleep.

 

Yuuri woke up the following morning and, before the events of the past day crashed into his mind, he felt warm and happy. Victor was still sleeping next to him, and Yuuri indulged himself in watching him for a while, the steady rise and fall of his chest, his fingers twitching slightly on the pillow next to his head, his delicate features relaxed in slumber. Could it be that Yuuri had found happiness only to have it taken away? Then it was even worse having known it and having to let it go, and screw whoever said ‘it’s better to have love and lost than never to have loved at all’. Yuuri felt as if a chunk of his heart had been ripped off unawares and he had no idea how he’d go about stitching the tattered remains back together. But he understood now that it was useless trying to convince Victor to stay. He knew his fiance well enough by now to know he was immensely stubborn and once he got an idea into his head, no one could sway him. Besides, Yuuri was reluctant to make it seem like he was pressuring Victor. If this was his choice, Yuuri would respect it – even though Victor was so wrong in assuming things about Yuuri which definitely weren’t true. Or were they? Was Yuuri in fact projecting expectations which Victor couldn’t meet?

Yuuri allowed himself a few moments of doubt, in which he seriously considered the possibility.

But when he tried to think ‘what do I want from Victor?’ he couldn’t even put his feelings into words, it was only a deep yearning which Victor’s presence alone could satisfy. _I just want him close to me_ , Yuuri murmured, to himself. _That’s all. That’s all I want. But it’s true that I want other things for him. Maybe I was wrong in assuming he wants those things as well. God, I just want him to do whatever makes him happy. Why can’t he just understand this, instead of worrying about what would make me happy and accomplished? I can take care of myself just fine, I always have._ _Stupid Victor._

It was all a mess, and perhaps Victor was right, maybe they did need some apart to figure it out.

Yuuri wasn’t even conscious that he was actually mumbling in Japanese, until Victor stirred and blinked lazily, with a yawn, long eyelashes fluttering as hazy blue eyes focused on Yuuri.

“Umm, Yuuri?” he asked, sleepily. “Were you talking to me?”

“I was just thinking how much I love waking up next to you,” Yuuri answered automatically.

He didn’t mean it to sound like an accusation, but the corners of Victor’s mouth turned down, guiltily.

“I’m so sorry, Yuuri”, he answered. “I’ll miss you awfully, if it’s any comfort.”

“It isn’t”, Yuuri answered, shortly. “Well, we better go pick up Makkachin.”

The anxiety over whether Makkachin was okay momentarily replaced any other worries on their minds, and they spent the drive to the vet speculating over how Sarychev’s crones had managed to slip the poison to Makkachin.

“They could’ve left it just outside the flat, and not care whoever else got into it, as long as Makkachin did. I remember the day before yesterday there was a smell of raw meat when I stepped outside to take him for a walk, and Makkachin pulled on the leash to nose through a package left on the pavement. I pulled him away but it looks like I wasn’t fast enough”, Victor said. “God, if anything happens to Makkachin, I’m gonna regret not beating it out of those bastards when I had the chance. Please God, let him be okay.”

“The vet said he will be”, Yuuri said, noncommittally.

“I can’t seem to do anything right”, Victor continued.

Yuuri didn’t take the bait, but he didn’t reassure Victor either. A small irrational part of him couldn’t help but blame Victor himself, even though he knew he was being absurd. A completely unrelated memory came to his mind, when he was small and he had just started skating, and he came down with a bad head cold, he heard his mother telling his father ‘You should’ve put two sweaters on him when he goes to the rink, you know how sensitive he is’, while his dad argued ‘How is he going to move with two sweaters on him? It’s just a cold, he’ll be fine’ – to which, his mother had replied, tersely: ‘What if he isn’t? I’d rather be safe than sorry!’ It was one of the very rare times he overheard his parents arguing, and he didn’t like it one bit. As a child, he had felt unsettled about their parents’ argument, but looking back on it as an adult, he realized that it didn’t mean they didn’t love each other, or him – quite the opposite, in fact. His thoughts returned to Victor and himself, and the fact that he blamed Victor for Makkachin getting ill made a little more sense in light of his memory.

“I’m so sorry”, Yuuri heard Victor say, and he was brought back to the present moment. Victor seemed to accurately take Yuuri’s silence as agreement to his earlier words, and had slumped in his seat.

Yuuri took one look at him and the words he couldn’t bring himself to say earlier tumbled right out of him, clear and certain:

“It’s not your fault, love.”

 

~

Makkachin did turn out to be fine, and their unbridled joy momentarily overshadowed everything. After taking him home for a light meal (the vet prescribed a few days of specific regimen), Victor and Yuuri took Makkachin to the park. It was a beautiful sunny day signalling the beginning of spring and Makkachin was running around, sniffing at the air and chasing pigeons, returning occasionally to Victor and Yuuri to jump on them and bark happily. Victor hugged him and kissed him every time he came back, and Yuuri suddenly became aware his cheeks were hurting because of the wide grin he had etched on his face. He must look like a lunatic, he realized, as he tried to force the corners of his mouth to settle down. But then again, why shouldn’t he smile for a little while longer?

They bought doughnuts and ice cream from a kiosk, a rare treat for the both of them, and ate sloppily, like children. It was late afternoon when they finally headed home, their sticky fingers intertwined, and Makkachin trotting on the leash beside them. Yuuri stole a glance at Victor. He looked serene and relaxed. Could it be, that he changed his mind after all? _Please, let him forget all about it,_ Yuuri prayed internally. _Let me at least have one more night with him._

But when they arrived home, Victor’s demeanour changed into a calm but resigned one which Yuuri recognized all too well. He brought out his bag, and went to hug Makkachin tightly, then turned to Yuuri, and pulled him into a crushing hug. Yuuri felt Victor’s heart beat against his own, as he ran his hands all over Victor’s back.

“I love you so much”, Yuuri whispered into Victor’s neck. “I know you don’t believe me, but this isn’t something that goes away just because you don’t believe it.” He sniffed, and stepped out of the embrace. “Take care of yourself, Victor.”

Victor kept his eyes downcast, hardly daring to look at Yuuri.

“You...take care of yourself as well, Yuuri. I look forward to seeing what you’ll achieve next,” Victor said, trying valiantly to sound cheerful.

Victor was out the door this time without any interruptions, but Yuuri’s heart didn’t stop thumping erratically. He fidgeted around the empty house, racked with nerves, and couldn’t settle down or focus on anything. He knew it was irrational, but once Victor was out of his sight, Yuuri felt anxiety gnawing at him – it wasn’t even anything specific, just a vague feeling of uneasiness and fear for Victor’s safety, magnified by recent events.

Finally, two hours or so later, Yuuri couldn’t stand it any longer and sent Victor a message:

“Please let me know you arrived safely wherever you’re staying and everything is okay.”

In a few minutes, he received Victor’s reply:

“Checked into a hotel. I’m fine. Hoping you and Makkachin are fine too. Good night, Yuuri xxx”

Yuuri felt an absurd measure of relief as he read that message. He cradled the phone to his chest, smiling.

Everything would be alright. He jumped up, suddenly focused and energized and whistled for Makkachin.

“Hey boy, you hungry? Let’s eat!”

 

~

Yakov called Yuuri the next day.

“Everything is taken care of.”

“Dare I ask for details?”

“I’ll give them to you in person, if you’re not too squeamish to hear them. I don’t trust phone lines in our motherland.”

“I see.”

“Listen, Yuuri, Vitya said something strange to me the other night – I didn’t pay it much attention then because I was otherwise... occupied, but then it came to me. He said ‘Yakov, I can’t lose you too.’ What do you suppose he meant by that? Who else did he lose?”

Yuuri’s heart jumped in his throat.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I have no idea why he said that.”

“You’re a bad liar, Yuuri.”

“Uhhh – his mother perhaps, you said his mother died a few years back so maybe he meant how you’re like a father to him and-“

“Cut the bullshit, Yuratchka. What’s happening with you and Vitya?”

“He left me me, Yakov. He moved out.”

“What??” Yakov bellowed.

“... It’s complicated to explain. He thinks it’s for the better. I don’t know. It feels like I don’t know anything anymore.”

“But you said everything was alright between you!”

“That’s what I thought. Apparently Victor thought differently”, Yuuri answered, unable to keep a note of bitterness out of his voice. He needed to put an end to this conversation while he could still hold his tears back. “Oh, and he also said things about skating... but he should be the one to tell them to you... not me...”

“Yuuri!!!” Yakov warned, menacingly, and Yuuri could imagine his eyes bulging in anger at the other end of the line.

“Fine”, he relented, “it’s not like it matters anymore anyway.... He said he was going to stop skating, and coaching and he just needed to be quote, out of the public eye for a while, unquote.”

“He’s pushing everyone away”, Yakov said, with dawning realization, and really, that should’ve been obvious to Yuuri from the beginning, but it only took Yakov’s words for him to see it. Victor was fencing himself in - he was used to drawing strength only from himself; his trauma had turned his world upside down and left him largely depending on Yuuri, but now that he started to feel a little better, he was falling back into his old familiar ways. Yuuri still couldn’t bring himself to believe all that crap Victor sprouted about Yuuri being confused about his feelings for him and about the expectations he was apparently projecting, he simply refused to believe it. He knew Victor’s own feelings of worthlessness came largely courtesy of Sarychev, and could only hope that at one point, Victor would find a way to overcome them. As for Sarychev, Yuuri learned that revenge, once achieved, didn’t taste so sweet as Yuuri had imagined. Sarychev was ‘taken care of’ but Yuuri didn’t feel particularly satisfied or even appeased. Revenge was hollow because the damage wasn’t so easily undone.

 

~

Yuuri threw himself into skating with a vengeance. He was first at the rink in the early mornings and last to leave. Yuri had finally received permission to skate and he returned to the ice with a similar hunger, eager to make up for lost time. The two Yuris struck up a quiet camaraderie, aided by the fact that they both worked hard, with single-minded focus, during long hours, and didn’t stop for idle chatter. Even Yakov was forced to remind them that it was the beginning of the off-season, and they should be saving all that energy and drive for the end of summer. Neither of the Yuris paid much heed to that advice. One late evening, when they were alone on the ice, Yuuri confessed to the young Russian the reason for his late hours and apparent misery.

Yuri just stared, aghast.

“I can’t believe it!” he burst out. “He’s just slinking away into a hole! And after everything I told him! Like a loser! Fuck – I’m so dissappointed in him!”

He ruminated for a while, and then his face set in an expression of resolve:

“It’s good you told me, Katsudon. We won’t stand for this. Gonna find where Victor’s staying at and drag him back here by his hair. C’mon.”

“Yuri—“

“I can’t believe you just left him to his own devices for so long!”

“It’s his own decision—“

“Bullshit! You don’t have to stand for this! He’s such an idiot! Gotta go and get him back!”

“You would”, Yuuri said, smiling sadly, as he remembered that memorable instance in their past, when Victor dropped everything and left for Japan, and Yuri, without any preamble, similarly put everything aside and got on a plane to get him back. He could imagine Yuri’s reaction back then was not very unlike this one. “It’s not the right thing to do now, though. Believe me. It’s gotta be Victor’s own choice. Or else it may do more harm than good.”

“Bullshit”, Yuri repeated. “Just tell me where he’s staying at.”

“I don’t know myself. And he wouldn’t tell me if I asked.”

“He’ll tell _me_ ”, Yuri said, with certainty in his voice.

But it soon became apparent that Victor wouldn’t, and refused to even answer calls. He sent a message to Yuri, asking if he was alright, and then graciously ignored his lurid threats and colorful swear words that littered his attempt to find out which hotel Victor was staying at.

Yuuri knew that the only person Victor chose to meet was Yakov. He ached to see his fiance again, but he wouldn’t abuse his trust – not if Victor didn’t want to see him.

But he still broke down one day, exhausted and miserable, and launched himself at Yakov, hugging him fiercely, like he did another time, long ago, when he was broken up and defeated by Victor’s absence.

“How can I get through to him, Yakov?” Yuuri heard himself almost beg. “You know him better, you’ve known him since he was a child. Please. Tell me how I can get him back. I can’t live without him. There’s a gaping hole in my chest and it burns, it eats me alive. I go to sleep every night crying and I wake up in the morning and I cry some more.”

“Yuratchka, my heart breaks for you, but I’m not a shrink, I can’t help you, boy.”

“At least help me get Victor’s love for skating back. I’m not even asking for myself now. But it hurts even more to know he’s just as miserable as I am. He should be happy, then I’d find some way to deal with this by myself.”

“Damn”, Yakov sighed, and pondered, after Yuuri had told him everything. "Yuratchka, I’m sure Vitya loves you", he finally said, "but he probably finds some twisted satisfaction in keeping you away, _for your own good._ Vitya has always been impulsive and stubborn and I’m getting too old to babysit him. When I was young, children used to get their bottoms thrashed just so they wouldn’t grow up to be spoiled brats like Vitya. I’m not saying this was a good habit but-“

“Yakov”, Yuuri interrupted him, laughing, despite himself, then continued earnestly: “Will you help me?”

“I’ll try and talk to him”, Yakov answered. “But I can’t work miracles. You, on the other hand, already got Vitya to drop everything once and come to you. Maybe you’ll manage it again.”

 

~

“Did you see the papers today? That news article about Sarychev’s disappearance?”

“Is this what you called me here to talk about, Vitya? I have better things to do with my time. I have to train one extra student now, you know. Thanks to _you_.”

Victor didn’t take the bait.

“I’m just afraid, Yakov. You didn’t kill Sarychev, did you? You told me the truth, yes?” he asked, anxiously.

“Of course”, Yakov sighed, wearily. “I bruised my knuckles on his face and then I had them all shipped off on their extended holiday. The press are gonna stir the shit for a while, then it’s all gonna die down.”

Victor shook his head.

“I still can’t believe it, Yakov. This was incredibly reckless.”

“Let me worry about that. Rest assured, there won’t even be an investigation. Those who would be in charge of the investigation are in on it. Now, since I’m here, there’s something else I want to talk to you about.”

“Skating?” Victor asked, unenthusiastically.

“Yuuri.”

A small silence.

“Oh.”

“What the hell are you doing, Vitya?” Yakov burst out, with a vague gesture at the nondescript hotel room they were in. “Why are you living in a hotel when you have your apartment? Why aren’t you home with Yuuri and Makkachin?”

“I need some time to think things through”, Victor answered, quietly.

“Is that what your therapist told you?”

“No, it’s what I decided for myself.”

“You are still seeing your therapist, then?”

“Maya? Of course.”

“Uh-uh. Well, don’t take too long thinking”, Yakov said. “I know you’ve been through a lot and I’m sympathetic, but you know I’m not a fan of moping. So whatever it is you got on your plate, make sure you sort it out and fast. I won’t wait forever, and neither will Yuuri.”

“Yakov”, Victor smiled, “you’re all talk. When I told you I quit skating and left for Japan, you said you won’t talk to me ever again, but when I hit a rough patch, you were there for Yuuri and me. You’ll never abandon me, no matter what I do.”

“Spoiled brat”, Yakov mumbled. “Alright, maybe _I_ won’t, but how about Yuuri?”

“But I _want_ Yuuri to move on, grow into his own, find other people to inspire him! I can’t think of anything better for him!”

“Vitya – he’s sad, lonely, he’s --- “, Yakov stopped abruptly. Yuuri had thrown himself into skating in a desperate way, as if to make up for Victor’s absence, and Yakov was impressed with both his stamina and hard work as well as his emotional performance. He was even trying out new choreographic elements, seemingly putting together a new program. But Yakov wasn’t about to tell Victor that. Not when Victor could very well use it to justify his absence from Yuuri’s life. “He misses you”, Yakov ended lamely.

Victor’s face hardened.

“He misses his childhood dreams. It’s time he grew up and became a man. I have nothing more to offer him.”

Yakov shook his head, wearily, as if to say ‘I give up.’ He picked up his hat.

“At least drop by the rink from time to time. It’s like you entirely forgot about all of us. We’re your family, Vitya. We don’t deserve such indifference from you.”

With that, Yakov was out the door, and Victor stared after him, pain clouding his features.

 

~

Victor did not lie to Yakov about continuing his therapy sessions. He had missed two sessions because of recent events, and called Maya to apologize and confirm the next date. Talking with Maya was something he had come to appreciate because it helped him put his thoughts in order and get a new perspective on things.

He recounted the events of the past few days to her, mentioning only in passing that he had moved out of his apartment, and Maya tacitly understood his unspoken request not to discuss this for now. They focused instead on the recent attack and rescue.

“If I understand correctly”, Maya said, “this second encounter, unpleasant as it undoubtedly was, had something the first one did not: a happy ending.”

Victor reflected whether to tell Maya exactly how happy the ending was, then decided she wouldn’t appreciate being made a part of something illegal, no matter how satisfying it had all been.

“In other words, Victor, you saw that different outcomes are possible, even when the situation seems desperate. Having survived something is empowering. You are a survivor, Victor. And so is Yuuri. You’ve fought your way out of impossible situations together.”

“I didn’t do much fighting to be honest....I just...froze up.”

“But you escaped. And you’re here to tell the story.”

Victor shrugged.

“I guess.”

“And the story’s not over.”

Victor was briefly tempted to answer: ‘But what if it is?’ – when he met Maya’s challenging look. Eyebrow raised, she fixed him with a look which seemed to say ‘Have you forgotten our deal? Because I haven’t.’

“You’re right”, he conceded. “The story isn’t over yet. But maybe a chapter is.”

“Then feel free to write another”, Maya replied.

~

Victor did miss everybody dearly. A special place of hurt in his heart was dedicated to Yuuri, and another to Makkachin, and he kept those separate and looked at them everyday – how will he miss Yuuri today, in what new and painful shades of blue? But a stubborn part of him always insisted he had made the right choice. He had been honest when he told Yuuri he did not need all the comforts of his own home, not for what he was doing, or rather – not doing. He only needed enough food to sustain him, which was not very much, and a place to sleep, and exist, in the space between four walls. Contrary to his usual habits, he had picked an average three-star hotel to serve as accommodation. They didn’t even ask for his id at the reception, instead trusting Victor to provide the correct name and address, which, of course, he did not, and were happy to collect his money for an extended stay. Then it meant Victor was free to just sit in and do absolutely nothing all day. No expectations from others, no desires of his own. Well – none that he was conscious of, anyway. It was a plane of nonexistence in itself, as Yakov had designed for Sarychev, but without the physical toil. But Victor didn’t see it as a punishment for himself, not even when he missed Yuuri most fiercely. He saw it as no more than he deserved. He had imposed on Yuuri long enough as it was, on his precious time and energy. Yuuri could have used all this time training and winning, gaining new experiences and meeting new people, instead of missing Four Continents and Worlds just to babysit him. No – the more he thought about it, the more he became convinced he made the right choice, and his own feelings be damned. (And Yuuri’s feelings? No doubt Yuuri loved him, or an idolized image of him, Victor would never know for certain, no matter how much he pondered and dissected Yuuri’s words and actions – this still remained a mystery. But Yuuri was young and he’d meet new people and be happy again.)

The only time when Victor was a hair’s breadth away from caving in and calling Yuuri was one night when he had an awful nightmare. His nightmares had become few and far between but the occasional one still plagued him, and this one came in the aftermath of his recent close call, the one which Maya called ‘empowering’ because Victor had made it out unscathed. It was also different than the rest, which always constantly replayed the same attack in the same bathroom, the same helplessness and pain – this nightmare was a complete fantasy which only borrowed a little from reality. In it, Victor was trapped into a burning building. It was a large, lavish building, like a cathedral, and his steps as he tried to run outside echoed in the emptiness. But he didn’t make it outside. A hand grabbed him and dragged him further inside, and a voice snarled cruelly into his ear: “Hope your bed is all warmed up by now. You’re gonna be spending a lot of time in it.”

Victor woke up abruptly, his heart beating fast in pure terror, and for a while, as he lay in the darkness, trying to calm down, his loneliness seemed unbearable. The fact that Yuuri’s wasn’t in bed beside him was unacceptable. His hand strayed towards the phone – Victor needed to hear Yuuri’s voice, just a few words of comfort – but his reasonable side finally won out. It was late at night, and he’d be incredibly selfish to wake Yuuri up just so Victor could feel better, and then continue to keep away. It was exactly the sort of thing he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do any longer, it would be using Yuuri for his own selfish ends. He tossed and turned in bed, close to crying, then suddenly sat up and got dressed. He needed a drink so he went into the hotel bar downstairs, which was thankfully open all night.

There were a few people inside, and Victor took a seat at the bar, and eventually got to talking with a Belgian who was in Russia for business. Victor gave his fake name, fervently hoping he wouldn’t be recognized but he needn’t have worried. The Belgian seemed just as reluctant to discuss his own life and business, as he was to wonder about Victor’s own, and appeared to be merely looking for a distraction, which suited Victor just fine. Talk drifted to sex soon enough.

“So how old were you when you realized you liked cock more than pussy?” Rene asked him outright. “I was fifteen.”

“Oh. Am I that obvious?” Victor laughed.

“Oh, honey”, Rene replied.

“I don’t know”, Victor answered earnestly. “I guess I’ve always been like this.”

“Lucky you”, Rene laughed. “Were your parents okay with it?”

“Well, with the risk of sounding melodramatic, I never knew my father, but my mother was okay with it, yes.”

“Yeah...”, Rene nodded. “Dads are the worst.”

“Really?” Victor asked, wondering if Rene was going to say anything more, but the Belgian just shook his head.

“Hey, let’s make a night of it, Alexei”, he told Victor and ordered more drinks for the both of them.

They ended up in Victor’s hotel room, fucking against the wall. Victor had a momentary flash of panic when he was pinned, but it was dulled by all the alcohol, and it felt good, so he gradually relaxed. Still, he pushed at Rene, just to see if the man would back off. Rene did, and stepped back, confused and a little wary.

“What is it? You alright?”

“Yeah just – I felt like switching positions”, Victor slurred. “I wanna ride you.”

“No complaints from me”, Rene laughed, and dropped on the bed dramatically. “Nice view”, he commented, as Victor sank down on him and started moving, a little sloppy and uncoordinated, to chase his pleasure. “You’re a handsome man, Alexei. Hard to believe you’re unattached.”

“I’m not”, Victor gasped. “I am very much....attached.”

“So am I”, Rene confessed, and spilled inside the condom, then good-naturedly helped Victor get off as well.

Rene’s confession made Victor feel better about having thought about Yuuri the entire time they had sex. Rene stayed with him that night and they went down to breakfast together the next morning. Then they parted companionably, and Rene checked out of the hotel. They didn’t ask for each other’s number. Victor went for an idle walk for the first time in days, to shake off the pleasant exhaustion in his bones caused by last night’s vigorous exercise, and returned to the hotel in time for his skype session with Maya. He didn’t know how to feel about the whole experience, but he was briefly grateful for the change in his daily routine. It wasn’t something he’d choose to indulge in again, however. If it hadn’t been for his unsettling nightmare, it wouldn’t have even occurred to Victor to seek out a chance encounter.

 

Maya told him his nightmare might express how he felt trapped by his own fears and insecurities, but it seemed too simple to Victor.

“The terror I had felt in the dream was earth-shattering”, he tried to explain.

“Maybe that’s how you unconsciously feel about being isolated”, Maya offered.

Victor looked at her askance.

“I’m just taking some time to think things through”, he repeated, the usual verse.

Maya nodded, and did not press the matter further.

Victor did not tell her about his one night stand with Rene, because he did not deem it important enough, and he knew he wouldn’t repeat the experience.

 

~

“Dear Victor,

I know you said messages only, but I hope emails are okay too, since this is a little too long for a message.

I took Makkachin to the vet for his yearly check-up. I was going to call you and ask where you kept his health id card, but I eventually found it in a drawer. Everything went fine. He’s healthy and he didn’t make too much fuss over his shots. The vet said he recovered remarkably after the scare a couple of weeks ago, but to cut down on his treats because we spoil him rotten. I didn’t contradict him. It’s true I might be spoiling him with treats recently, to make up for the fact that you’re not here and he misses you.

You know who else misses you? Yurio. He returned to the ice and has started training like he wants to conquer the world. He asked about you, and when I told him, he called you an idiot, so I concluded he must really miss you.

Lastly, a request from me:

I’ve been working on a new program for next season – tried to choreograph it all by myself. It’s been difficult and I probably made a mess of it but Yakov says it’s not all bad, which you know, coming from him... I’m just really excited about it, but I also find myself at a bit of a loss. As you know, my experience with choreographing programs is nonexistent so this is a new thing for me. So I was wondering if you could help me with a bit of advice, if you’re not too busy. If you’re feeling up to it, anytime is fine for me.

I hope you’re doing well.

Yours,

Yuuri.”

 

Victor sighed and rubbed his forehead. He read Yuuri’s message several times in a row, dwelling on each word. A fond smile had appeared on his face, of which he was entirely unaware of. His smile grew as he realized that Yuuri had actually signed his name at the end of the email, as if not to leave Victor with any shadow of a doubt that the message was from him. ‘ _Yours,_ Yuuri’ _._ Victor’s smile grew even wider. A clattering noise brought Victor back into to his surroundings, and he became aware that he had been grinning at his phone for a while now, in the middle of a crowded coffee shop. He shook his head, and flexed his fingers, wondering how best to compose a reply.

He was, of course, going to refuse.

... Or was he?

He missed Yuuri something fierce, that was nothing new, but maybe it wouldn’t be so wrong to indulge himself just a little. After all, it’s not like he would actually start coaching Yuuri or interefere with him. It would be just a bit of advice, as Yuuri requested, no strings attached on either side.

Victor had to admit his curiosity was well and truly piqued, thinking about Yuuri choreographing his own moves. He always knew Yuuri had it in him. He was so happy Yuuri got there on his own! He’d never have done it with Victor hanging by his side, pushing his own views on him, weighing him down. In that moment, Victor felt equally validated in his choice to remove himself from Yuuri’s life, as well as supremely regretful for missing what must have been a spectacular blossoming of Yuuri’s creative talent. But now Yuuri was offering to share it with him, to show him. For the first time in he couldn’t remember how long, Victor found himself excited about skating, trying to imagine what Yuuri had come up with.

Impulsively, Victor typed in a message, then sent it quickly, before he could change his mind:

“Tomorrow, 7 o’clock okay with you?”

Yuuri’s answer came in less than 5 seconds:

“Perfect. See you then!”

 

~

Victor arrived at the rink in the crisp early morning, and inhaled the familiar, invigorating smell of fresh ice, unaware of how much he’d missed it. There was no one else around at this hour, which was precisely the reason why Victor had chosen it.

Victor had arrived some time before 7 o’clock, so he could be prepare himself before meeting Yuuri, but it seemed that Yuuri thought along the same lines, because he was already on the ice – or did he always keep such early hours?

Fact remained that when Victor looked at the rink, there Yuuri was, his lithe form so focused on working through his movements that he hadn’t even noticed Victor was there yet, and for a few moments, they seemed frozen in time, Yuuri skating, and Victor watching from the sidelines, and it was like no time had passed at all since Victor first saw Yuuri on the ice.

 


	13. Cherry Blossom Pink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger in this chapter: Very brief description of a suicide (I swear it's not what you think, tho :p)

 

Cherry Blossom Pink

 

Their moment of genuine connection broke abruptly when Victor sneezed. He wasn’t dressed for the rink – it was like he had forgotten what ‘dressing for the rink’ meant, his jacket the only concession to the breezy weather outside. Then again, he had left home with only a bag so he had no abundance of clothes to choose from. The chill of the ice rink had seeped into him unawares, and forced a powerful sneeze out of him, which he couldn’t suppress, so he sneezed loudly and comically. Yuuri startled and turned at the noise.

“Hello”, Victor said, with an embarassed sniff.

“Hi!” Yuuri replied, with a smile, and skated over to him. “How long have you been standing there for?”

“Not long. Well, to be honest, I don’t know. I got caught up in watching you skate. I didn’t want you to stop. That’s why I didn’t announce my presence... until that stupid sneeze, that is. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright. Are you cold?”

“A little, now that you mention it. But the cold feels good.”

“You should have at least worn your gloves”, Yuuri said, taking Victor’s frozen hands in his own gloved ones.

Victor fidgeted, his fingers twitching in Yuuri’s grasp:

“I don’t have them... didn’t pack them,” he said, somehow feeling ashamed of the fact, or ashamed of reminding Yuuri that one day his fiance just up and left with nothing but a bag.

“Here, have mine”, Yuuri offered, starting to take his own off.

“No way! You keep them. You need them more than me anyway. So, Yuuri. What I’ve just seen – is that what you wanted to show me?”

“Yes”, Yuuri answered. He let go of Victor’s hands, suddenly shy. “Uh, yeah, part of it at least. What did you think?”

“It was truly a lovely thing to watch, Yuuri! My heart swells with joy and pride to see how much you’ve grown. I always knew my little Yuuri was talented”, Victor continued, delighted to see Yuuri blush. “You have a lot of untapped potential in you still, just waiting to come out. What I’ve just seen...what you lack in experience you make up for in enthusiasm and novelty. The elements are bold and fresh and you are breathing vibrant life into them. I could see a story unfold before my eyes, set to the music your body was creating. I’m sure it will be a marvelous program when it’s complete.”

“Uhhh, thank you”, Yuuri mumbled, reddening even further at all the praise.

“But there are a few instances where the transitions aren’t so smooth”, Victor continued, suddenly going into stern coach mode. “I assume this is what you wanted me to help you with?”

Yuuri nodded, breathlessly.

“Exactly, the transitions. That’s where I suck and my lack of experience shows.”

“Nah, suck is a strong word. But it is a little stuttery in some parts. How about you skate for me the entire thing again, start to finish?”

“Hai!”

Yuuri skated the backbone of his routine two more times for Victor, while Victor watched with rapt attention.

“It’s no good”, Victor eventually said, with mounting frustration. “I have some ideas in my head but there’s no way I could express them in words, or even show them to you....I need to see how they fit inside the routine itself, I need to try them out on the ice first...”

“Well”, Yuuri said, hesitantly. “I sort of did anticipate that, so I brought your skates along... I mean....it's another of those things you didn't pack and I figured you might need them.... It’s alright if you don’t want to...”

Victor’s eyes went wide with excited impatience.

“No, I do want them!” he said, hurrying to kick his shoes aside right where he was standing. “Please get them for me, Yuuri!”

“First you need to warm up a little, Victor, before you get on the ice. Especially now, after all those weeks of inactivity. Your muscles must be atrophied.”

“Please, don’t suddenly act like a coach, Yuuri!” Victor said, with a laugh, and Yuuri smiled, acknowledging the shared memory.

Even so, Victor knew a warm up was absolutely necessary, so he took off his jacket and launched into his familiar warm up routine. They were quiet as Victor stretched and Yuuri launched into a series of one foot eights, while he waited for Victor to finish.

Then Yuuri went into the locker room and brought Victor’s skates, holding them out one by one. Victor had to kneel and put one on, and then, unsteadily, the other. Something like a shiver, half forbidding, half anticipatory, went through him, and he frowned.

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable sitting down?” Yuuri asked. “Here, let me.”

He bent down to tie Victor’s laces, and Victor was struck with a sensation like deja-vu. It was a moment of connection and Victor hungrily reveled in their closeness, brief as it was. Yuuri’s face was unreadable as he sat up – he moved aside, with a wide gesture towards the rink, perhaps a tad dramatically. Welcome back to your domain, it seemed to say; it’s just as you left it and you’re free to claim it back or leave it again.

When Victor set foot on the ice, it wasn’t like the angels sung or the heavens parted, but it felt momentous for the both of them. It was a take it or leave it kind of thing, and neither of them could, in that instance, foresee the outcome. Victor himself didn’t know if he would fall flat on his face or launch into a series of flawless jumps. He stood there, hesitating, until Yuuri put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s alright, if you don’t – “

“No”, Victor repeated, “I want to skate your routine. I have it all in my mind, I really need to try it out on the ice, there’s nothing I want more right now.”

A breathless ten minutes later, Victor was beaming, as he skated the routine several times in a row, having tried out new transitions with each.  

“I really like how this is coming on! Of course it’s too early to settle on something. What do you think, have you got that last one? Shall we try it together this time?”

Yuuri skated towards him.

“Sure.”

They skated it side by side, as they used to do when Victor was coaching Yuuri, to ascertain that Yuuri was keeping accurate pace and that he had a good grasp of the choreography. As always, they were beautifully synchronized on the ice. It was like their bodies know instinctively how to move together.

“This is truly such an exciting and invigorating program, Yuuri!” Victor gushed, breaking out of the final pose, the heart-shaped smile lighting up his face.

“I’m glad you like it”, Yuuri answered, with a small smile of his own.

He paused slightly, as if searching for words, then blurted out:

“I made it for you.”

“You’re skating it for me?”

“No. I made it with you in mind - I made it for you to skate.”

“You made a program for me to skate??” Victor gasped. “You choreographed it for me??”

“I know, I was being presumptuous, wasn’t I? But it felt right, and it made me have something to look forward to each day, while I was missing you so much. I wanted to do something for you, and it felt like everything I’d done so far wasn’t enough or it turned out wrong so... Well, we always seemed to communicate better on the ice, anyway, so I thought... this would be fitting in a way.”

“Yuuri, I – I don’t know what to say. This should have been my job, to come to you with such gifts... You’ve done so much for me I can never hope to repay you. I’m...touched and deeply grateful. This is way more than I deserve, I couldn’t possibly....”

“Shush, don’t even start! It’s rude to turn down a gift! Besides, I saw how happy you were to skate it”, Yuuri said, smugly.

Victor couldn’t really argue with that.

“Does it have a name?” he finally asked.

“Well, I didn’t have a specific music in mind to set to it, just a low thrumming beat, like the beats of a heart... I thought of ‘Struggle and Triumph’ but that sounds a little over the top, so I don’t know.”

“Yeah, a little”, Victor agreed. “But I can see why you think that would fit. There’s a lot of fight and energy in it, a lot of emotion.... a lot of struggle and the end is just...exhilarating. That footwork at the end is just crazy, Yuuri!” he grinned. “Marvelous stuff, brilliant! I couldn’t even begin to try it at your speed. You were absolutely magnificent as you were doing it, I still think this should be your program.”

“Nonsense, you’ll manage it just fine. You just need to practice it some. And there’s still those connecting elements to refine. So, what do you say? Will you accept my gift, Victor?”

“Yuuri, you’re-“

“Yes, yes I know. I’m too good, too talented, I deserve much better, instead of wasting my precious time on your sorry ass. I get it. Guess what though, my time is my own and I chose to waste it while making this routine for you to skate. As a gift. So if you want to make me a gift, please take it and make it your own.”

Victor’s eyes filled with tears.

“God...Yuuri, you really are too precious,” he bawled.

Yuuri just stood there, eyebrow raised, as Victor cried with loud hiccups.

“Look, if you think that I’m not selfish, you’re wrong”, Yuuri said, trying to get Victor to calm down. “Part of my motive in doing this was just getting to see you again. And that selfish part of me is thinking that now that I’ve got here, I’m not going to let you walk away again so easily. Not without at least a promise that you’ll see me again, soon.”

“Well, I mean, we’ll have to”, Victor mumbled, while wiping at his tears, smearing them all over his flushed face. “See each other again, that is. We have to work on this program, don’t we?”

“Really? That means you’ll accept?”

“Of course, Yuuri. I’d be a complete fool not to accept such a wonderful gift, and so readily given. I still don’t know if I’m worthy of it, but I am very inspired to try. It will take a lot of hard work but I’m ready for it.”

“This makes me so happy!” Yuuri exclaimed.

Victor lowered his eyes, the blush spreading down to his neck.

“How about ‘Starting Over’,” he murmured.

“Huh?” Yuuri reacted, startled.

“I mean, as the title of the program”, Victor answered.

“Ah. Yes. The title. It’s a good - a good title, yeah.”

“I heard the John Lennon song on the radio while driving here today. Probably that’s why it came to mind. When I was little my mom used to listen to classic oldies. You know, Rolling Stones, the Beatles, Abba. By the time I grew up I knew all those songs by heart. I always feel nostalgic today when I hear them on the radio, even though they’re not really my favorites today.”

“Really?” Yuuri said. “You never told me that.”

“It seems a bit silly.”

“Not at all. Why silly? I love classic rock even now, and I’m a big Beatles fan”, Yuuri said defensively. “Used to have endless arguments with Phichit, who was better, John or Paul?”

“And who do you think was better?” Victor asked, with a smile.

“John, of course. Why?” Yuuri asked, suspiciously, ready to pick a fight.

“I’m not sure I have an opinion”, Victor backed off, laughing.

“Ah, okay. I’ll make a Lennon fan out of you yet,” Yuuri smirked.

He took a swig of water, and skated off into some lazy circle eights, while whistling softly under his breath:

“But when I see you darling, it’s like we both are falling in love again, it’ll be just like starting over-”

Victor broke in, considerably louder, as he twirled, dramatically, a little further off:

“It’s time to spread our wings and fly, don’t let another day go by, my love, it’ll be just like starting over!”

“Oh, ewwww!” they heard a loud voice from the sidelines, and turned.

Yuri stood there, eyes bulging, features twisted in comical disgust, as he waved his hands emphatically:

“Just .... ewww”, he repeated, words apparently failing him. “Gross”, he eventually supplied. “Don’t even –“ he shouted at Victor, who was skating enthusiastically in his direction, arms outstretched. “I’m not talking to you, asshole. If Yuuri thinks you can just show up here after you fucked right off the face of the planet for weeks, and you can jump right back into the lovey dovey crap, well, whatever, that’s his problem. But I’m not about to forgive you as easily. So fuck right off back where you came from!”

“Fair enough”, Victor nodded and moved back.

“Yuri, I was the one who asked him to come”, Yuuri said.

“Don’t care”, Yuri repeated, and stepped onto the ice, skating off immediately towards the far end of the rink.

Yuuri sighed.

“It’s okay”, Victor said, softly. “I had this coming. In fact, I don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me. I could totally understand if you lashed out, too.”

“What good would lashing out at you do?” Yuuri answered, sincerely. “I know I wouldn’t feel any better.”

He shrugged.

“Yuuri”, Victor whispered. “I’m so sor-“

“You have to go”, Yuuri said, brusquely.

“What?” Victor reacted, taken aback.

“You need to go”, Yuuri repeated. “Everyone will be here soon, and if you stick around, you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do. And _I_ would have a lot of explaining to do too, and I don’t feel like doing this right now.”

“But, Yuuri-“

“Go home. Or to the hotel, whatever. Think about the program. Do some workout. Then tomorrow, if you still want to do this, drop by the rink.”

Victor decided not to question the fact that Yuuri was, yet again, ordering him around like _he_ was the coach, and instead focused on the message:

“But I thought you wanted me to stay....”

“I know, it’s just that – we had a very good time today. I don’t want this ruined. If you change your mind about this whole thing, just don’t come tomorrow, you don’t need to write a message to explain or even tell me.”

“I don’t understand, Yuuri. You said you weren’t going to let me go so easily and now you’re practically pushing me away...”

“Yeah, that’s right. I changed my mind. Goodbye, Victor.”

“Ah, um- okay then... I guess. I will see you tomorrow, Yuuri. Can I take my skates with me?”

“Sure. They’re yours after all.”

Victor stepped off the ice, a little bewildered by Yuuri’s sudden and apparent change of heart, then he sighed and acknowledged he couldn’t really blame him.

 

Victor went back to the hotel and had a late breakfast. He had been too wired to eat before he left, but now he devoured the simple eggs and sausages with newfound pleasure. Afterwards, despite the coffee, or maybe precisely because of it, he fell asleep, exhausted by more exercise than he’d had in weeks. Victor slept like a log through most of the afternoon, woke up briefly in the evening, took a long shower, then went back to sleep. He woke up again in the small hours of the morning, feeling strangely refreshed. That’s how bears must feel when they come out of hibernation, he reflected, amused. Outside the dawn was just breaking. He didn’t even stop to think - he packed up his skates and went out, stopping by the coffee shop close to the rink to buy two cups of coffee, two bottles of water and two muffins.

This time, the rink was entirely deserted. Yuuri wasn’t there yet. Victor let himself in with the key which all Yakov’s students had in case they wanted to practice during off-hours. He started warming up, slowly and thoroughly, without yesterday’s impatience. When he finished, he yawned, and took a few sips of coffee, while he checked his phone. It was barely 6:00 am. He texted Yuuri: “Good morning, sleeping beauty. You’re probably just waking up. I got coffee, water and your favorite blueberry muffin. Just bring yourself xxx Love, Victor. PS: Please also bring my gloves if you can find them. You were right, I do need them.” A few seconds later, he received a short message from Yuuri: “I’ll look for them. See you soon.”

Victor hummed John Lennon as he laced up his skates and stepped on the ice. He threw himself into the program Yuuri meant for him, happy to indulge in it, happy in a way that no one was watching. It was just him and the ice – not a crowd of people to gaze at him, critically or with indiscriminate admiration. No one to validate him, no one to judge him. Not even his coach was there to correct his form. Not even Yuuri with his unconditional love and acceptance, which Victor still thought they blinded him to his idol’s faults. No one witnessed Victor’s true rebirth, not a soul but himself. For the first time ever, he skated for himself. Yuuri had truly given him a great gift. Victor wasn’t worthy, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t take it.

 

“Good morning, Yuuri!~” Victor chirped at him, when he finally showed up, almost an hour later.

“Ugh”, Yuuri replied.

Victor helpfully passed Yuuri his coffee.

“Why are you so chipper this morning?” Yuuri grumbled, as he took it. “Thank you very much.”

“I’m not chipper, I’m happy!”

“...Uh, that’s exactly what chipper means, Victor”, Yuuri pointed out, smiling.

“Oh, really? Well, then – I guess I’m chipper! So I’ve done some tweaks in the program! Wanna see, Yuu-riii?”

“Sure”, Yuuri said, and settled comfortably on a bench to watch.

Victor skated the entire program, with the joy and abandon he could still feel rushing through his veins, then skated back rinkside excitedly to gauge Yuuri’s reaction. Yuuri swallowed thickly, clearly overwhelmed.

“I just.... Victor, I just knew--”, he stumbled, “I knew you’d make it your own.”

Victor beamed and swooped down to pick his fiance up in a crushing hug.

“It’s all thanks to you, my Yuuri!!”

“Ouch!” Yuuri yelped. “Put me down!”

 

“I was thinking, you know”, Victor said, a little later, as they sat and ate their muffins and drank the rest of their coffee, knees brushing companionably on the bench, “you know, about the costume that would go for this piece. You’re going to laugh, or be shocked or both, but I was thinking....”, he broke off, chuckling.

“Yes?” Yuuri prompted.

“You probably expect me to come up with some lavish or dramatic but I figure a simple black t-shirt and pants would go better. That alone would be surprising enough.”

“You coming out to skate in a plain t-shirt and pants? Definitely. But I think you’re right. A lavish costume would detract here from the message.”

Victor smiled and bumped his knee against Yuuri’s.

“I’m sorry for making you keep such early hours. It’s just, you were right – I don’t really feel up to seeing the team and answering all their questions...”

“It’s alright. I’m actually here earlier than most anyway. Sometimes Yuri too. You can’t avoid everyone forever, though.”

“I know. It’s just, I can imagine how they’ll look at me, and judge me...”

“Why would they judge you?”

Victor shrugged:

“Well, I’d judge myself.”

Yuuri made a face:

“Worrying about what other people think of me – that’s usually my line.”

“Well, it turns out that now I know how you feel.”

“Oh, how the tables have turned”, Yuuri deadpanned. “Okay, since you seem hellbent to play the part of the insecure student, then give me three triple axels, right now, chop chop.”

“Don’t overdo it, Yuuri”, Victor raised a lazy eyebrow as he smirked. He skated out, and shouted back to Yuuri: “I’ll make them quad flips instead!”

 

~

Victor and Yuuri continued to train furtively, in the mornings, for the rest of the week. Sometimes Yuri surprised them, sometimes not. The teenager still moved away angrily whenever Victor tried to hug him and apologize.

“I’m not so easy as Katsudon”, he spat out. “Just a hug won’t make up for you being a jerk and for all those weeks of silence!”

“Do you want me to buy you flowers?” Victor laughed.

“Ugh, get out of my life!”

“I know! I’ll buy you a kitten!”

“Just piss off!”

“....a baby tiger, then??”

“Shut up, you clown. Just so you know, that dumb smile you got on your face right now is making me sick.”

Victor tried to push the corners of his mouth down with his fingers.

“Sorry”, he said, brightly. “Won’t go down.”

“At least have the courage to stick around and see your team mates that you’ve been ignoring all this time!”

“Ah, you’re right. I _should_ get going”, Victor said, instantly sobering up. He wasn’t ready to meet everyone else, yet. He kept the new program a secret from Yakov too, out of fear he’d jinx it if he started talking about it. He wanted to master it before he showed it to his coach.

 

It was an unusually beautiful Friday afternoon at the beginning of May, and Victor felt relaxed and warm. The late afternoon sun made reddish shadows play across the room and shouts of children and dogs playing in the park nearby drifted in through the open window. Victor walked towards it and let the perfumed breeze caress his face and play through his hair.

“I think I’ve realized something”, he murmured, returning to sit down in front of his laptop.

“And what have you realized?” Maya asked, blinking steadily at him from the screen.

“Well, nothing spectacular. And not much I can put into words, really. I’ve never been really good with words. It’s always been more about feelings for me. And what I’ve now realized, is a general feeling of... everything coming together somehow.”

“I see”, Maya replied, smiling at him encouragingly, as she waited for him to continue.

“It’s like, everything in my life, my career, my relationship with Yuuri, with my coach, even the bad things that happened to me, they’re all falling into a place, settling, like pieces of a puzzle I’ve long ceased trying to reconstruct – and then one morning you wake up and realize you somehow got the answer. But that sounds wrong, no – because I don’t, in fact have the answer. I don’t even know if there’s an answer. I haven’t magically regained supreme faith in my abilities. I don’t know if Yuuri would be better off with or without me. But I woke up this morning and I realized – I’ve been so miserable for so long, and then I thought about Yuuri, as I always do, actually, but this time I thought not about what I want from Yuuri or how I feel about him, but about how Yuuri felt about all this – and I realized that he must be really miserable too. And what good does that do, really, Maya, you’re the expert, you must know – what’s the use of all this endless cycle of feeling miserable and making everyone else feel miserable?”

“You may think I’m the expert, but I don’t actually have an answer myself. ‘ _What object is served by this circle of misery and violence and fear?_ ’ Maya quoted. “As said by one of my favorite writers in one of his stories”, she clarified.

“Well, did _he_ find an answer?” Victor wanted to know.

“I’m afraid not. He concludes that ‘ _it’s the perennial problem to which human reason is as far from an answer as ever’_.”

“Well, I found an answer. Or at least I think I did. For myself, that is. I just found I couldn’t care less anymore about being right, or perfect, or worthy, just about being happy again, and making Yuuri happy.”

“It’s a small comfort to know you’re right, when you’re so acutely aware of being miserable”, Maya nodded. “Unless you’re a very righteous person.”

“Yeah, and I’m definitely not a righteous person. I had a bitter sort of satisfaction for a while, knowing I did the right thing, even though it hurt me. But all that’s gone now. I’ve put time and space between Yuuri and me, and it seems all we end up doing is gravitating towards each other again, like magnets. Whether that’s wrong or right, for him or for me, I’m sorry to say I don’t care anymore.”

“You should be glad to say it, not sorry.”

“I want him so much, that nothing else seems to matter anymore. I think back on all the time I’ve exiled myself away from him and wonder ‘How could I do this?’ All this wasted time without him... Yurio is right, I’ve been a jerk. It seems ridiculous to me now, it seems absurd!”

“Well then, what are you waiting for, Victor? Are you waiting for my blessing?”

“Uh? You mean...?”

“Go see Yuuri, hug him tightly and tell him you’ve decided to be happy and being happy means having him close to you. If it all works well, tonight you’ll sleep in your own bed. If it doesn’t, I guess you’ll sleep on the couch, but at least you’ll be closer to Yuuri than you are right now. Either way, check out of this hotel right now, and go home. It’s my advice as your therapist, and god knows I’ve waited long enough to give it.”

“Why couldn’t you give it sooner?” Victor asked.

“It would’ve been unprofessional, unless you had arrived to that decision by yourself. Besides, you probably wouldn’t have listened anyway.”

“I’ll make it up to Yuuri, god I swear, for the rest of my life...”, Victor mumbled, close to tears.

“I’m sure you will. Now go! I’ll talk to you on Saturday. Happy Friday!”

 

~

“What are you doing here?” Yuuri asked, stone-faced, as he opened the door and saw Victor standing there with his bag.

“This is my apartment”, Victor tried to joke. “Oooomph!” he reacted as he was nearly knocked down by Makkachin, who was yelping and licking him happily. “I’ve missed you too, baby! Awwwwh you big ball of fluff, love you so much!”

Yuuri watched the display, his face unreadable.

“Makkachin”, he finally ordered, using his stern voice. “Get down.”

Makkachin obeyed and sat down, his tail still wagging frantically. They both watched Victor, who fidgeted.

“I’m –“, Victor started to say, then remembered Maya’s advice and simply pulled Yuuri into a tight hug.

“What’s wrong, Victor?” Yuuri asked, yielding a little, his body softening in Victor’s arms.

“Please stay with me”, Victor mumbled into Yuuri’s hair. “I love you and being with you makes me happy.”

Yuuri was silent.

“That’s all?” he finally said.

“That’s all.”

“You don’t have anything more to add, like, ‘You’re not really in love with me, Yuuri, just with an image of me’ - or ‘I’m not good enough for you’, or ‘this isn’t working’, or ‘you need to meet new people to inspire you’  - nothing like this?”

Victor hesitated, and pulled back a little so he could look Yuuri in the face.

“Look, all the things I said back then, I wasn’t lying,” he spoke, earnestly.

“So what’s changed, then?” Yuuri asked, cautiously.

“I guess my outlook’s changed. Everything is less important than the fact that I love you, I need you, I can’t live without you.”

“God”, Yuuri gasped. “God, Victor, you’re so _stupid_ ”, he burst out.

“I know, I know I am! I’m stupid and ridiculous, and wrong, but if you still want me, then I’m here, and I’m yours. There’s nothing I want more. That’s what I decided and I’m so, so very sorry I hurt you and-“

“Shut up”, Yuuri cried, with a sobbing laugh. He pulled Victor inside and shut the door. “Shut up, come here, come on.” He grasped Victor’s coat as if to take it off, but changed his mind at the last second, and pulled him down by the lapels  into a hungry kiss.

It was messy and uncoordinated, but there was so much heat and passion, Victor thought he would melt. His knees went weak and he slid against the wall, allowing Yuuri to pin him there with his body.

“You’re not gonna change your mind again, are you?” Yuuri asked, between kisses.

“Mmmhm... no... Oh god, no.”

“Good. Because if you do, I’m gonna fly to Japan and you won’t ever find me again”, Yuuri said. He pulled back slightly, to look at Victor and let him know he wasn’t joking. Blue eyes met resolute dark ones – blue eyes trembled and teared up. Victor nodded to show Yuuri he understood.

Yuuri nodded in turn, and then he was back to holding Victor close, and kissing him passionately. But Yuuri’s threatening words had awakened a fear in Victor that he was going to lose everything just as he thought he’d get it back. He needed to have it all out in the open now, and face the possibility that Yuuri wouldn’t forgive him. He couldn’t bear to have it linger in the back of his mind, along with the knowledge that Yuuri might leave him if he knew. So, regretfully, Victor turned his head to a side, gasping for air, while he searched for words. Yuuri’s lips landed on his neck.

“Yuuri – I have something to tell you....something I did.... something I’m so ashamed of....but I was alone and miserable and missed you so much-“

“Shhh, Victor. I don’t want to hear it,” Yuuri’s voice, though heavy with arousal, held a note of warning.

“I’d just had a nightmare and I didn’t want to be alone so I went down at the bar and there was this man....”

“Did you let him do this to you?” Yuuri mumbled, muffled by his nibbling along Victor’s long pale neck while clutching a handful of silver hair almost painfully. “Victor, did you like it?”

“I thought of you”, Victor answered. His hands wandered down Yuuri’s back, squeezing with yearning.

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I ... don’t know, I can’t think right now. Not with you doing this... It made sense at the time. Yuuri, are you mad? Do you hate me?”

“I’m mad but I don’t hate you. I’m gonna show you... show you why you should always come to me...”

Victor closed his eyes in bliss. Yuuri’s hands on his body, felt different – no longer hesitant and uncertain, but holding firmly with the certainty of possession. It was so easy to get lost in the pleasure, in the joy of having Yuuri so close.

“Please, yes, show me”, Victor managed, clutching Yuuri to him with the same possessive desire. “I want you so much, Yuuri. I was dead without you. I feel so alive right now. Can I.... Can we...”

A phone rang abruptly, startling them, and they suddenly became aware that they were groping each other, feverish with arousal but still fully dressed, in the hallway of their apartment.

They pulled back, slightly embarassed.

“Ah, it’s mine, I think”, Yuuri said, and fumbled to answer the call. “Hello. Oh, hi, Yakov. What is it, what’s happened?”

Yuuri was quiet while he listened, and Victor watched as he went suddenly pale.

“What is it?” Victor mouthed, grabbing his arm, and shook it, when Yuuri didn’t react.

“Uh, yes”, Yuuri finally said, rubbing his forehead. “I’ll tell him. In fact, he’s here with me right now. Yakov – are you sure that --- “

Victor frowned, curiosity and fear mingling in his eyes.

“Alright”, Yuuri ended. “Alright then. No, I trust you. Okay. Good night, Yakov.”

“What _happened_?” Victor almost shouted, as soon as Yuuri put his phone back in his pocket with shaking hands.

“Yakov received a call. Sarychev is dead.”

“What??”

“He hung himself. You know where they took him. Apparently, he had tried boarding a train back, but he was found, dragged back and beaten to a pulp. When they checked on him in the morning, they found him dead. He had made a makeshift noose out of the bed sheets, tied them around the rafters and jumped.

Victor just stared, stunned.

“Look, Yakov says they can’t trace this back to us, no way. They’ve been very careful, he says. They had him buried out there, just one body among thousands. No one will ever know.”

“ _We’ll_ know,” Victor whispered.

“Yes”, Yuuri nodded, the same look of shock mirrored in his eyes. “It somehow feels so _wrong_. I wanted him punished more than anything, there was a time when I envisaged all sorts of torture upon him and it still didn’t satisfy me. But now that this actually happened, I feel....drained, like it’s all meaningless.”

“What object is served by this circle of misery and violence and fear”, Victor mumbled, under his breath.

“Eh?”

“Oh, Yuuri”, Victor sighed. “We’re going to have to live with this, with the knowledge of all that’s happened. No one else can know.”

Yuuri nodded.

“Yes. But this is on us. We took a life. It wasn’t my hand or yours, but it was as good as that. Me and you and Yakov, this knowledge is gonna bind us forever.”

“What else could we have done?”

Yuuri shook his head.

“I wonder what Maya would have to say about this”, Victor continued. “She'd surely think of something to make us feel better. Not that we can tell her about this, of course.”

“Probably some reassuring nonsense, about how it isn’t our fault”, Yuuri said, without any real heat. “But I still feel responsible. Don’t you?”

“Yes. But also, and perhaps it’s mean and selfish of me, but I also feel like a survivor.”

Yuuri raised sad eyes to meet Victor’s:

“Do you understand now? How precious and sacred life is? Even the life of an asshole like Sarychev whom I thought I’d be glad to strangle myself. Make me a promise right now, Victor, while you still feel like a survivor – promise me that no matter how bad you feel, you won’t ever leave me in this way.”

Victor took Yuuri’s hand in his own and kissed it:

“I promise, Yuuri. Never. I haven’t the slightest wish to take my life anymore.”

“Good”, Yuuri nodded, then slid his hand out of Victor’s grasp, still troubled. “I can’t help thinking of how he grew up with posters of you on his wall and how desperately he wanted to surpass you. I remember feeling so shocked when I learned that.”

“You don’t think –“

“What’s true is only pain and disappointment, and more pain, that’s what he said, remember?”

Victor shuddered.

“Please don’t talk about him anymore, Yuuri!”

“I’ve felt that way at times, myself. I’ve tried to ignore it, but it felt bewildering to me how much his story resembled mine.”  
“Don’t be ridiculous! He was nothing like you!”

“I know that he was completely different from me, but we had some things in common. We both worshiped you and wanted to skate because of you. We both felt frustrated because we couldn’t. We both both admired and resented how you made it look so easy.”

“The main difference between you two”, Victor broke in contemptuously, “is the heaps of talent that you’ve always had, and he didn’t. You’re gorgeous, Yuuri, you’re a force of nature. You’ve dazzled everyone with your charm even when you were at your lowest point. The most bewildering thing about you is how completely unaware you are of your own qualities. And you’re also blessed with goodness of heart, humility and kindness. You don’t have a mean bone in your body, love. The fact that you’re feeling pity or understanding for this asshole just proves my point, Yuuri.”

Victor moved close and enveloped Yuuri in his arms, holding him tightly and protectively.

“My lovely Yuuri, my darling boy. Don’t worry yourself, babe”, Victor spoke, soothingly, as he nuzzled Yuuri’s hair. “The only thing _I_ regret about Sarychev is not being there to give him the push myself”, he continued, serenely. “My love, my Yuuri – don’t think about him anymore.”

Finally, Yuuri nodded, and squeezed back.

They undressed each other slowly, their earlier urgency gone, and went to bed, where they caressed each other, soft and unhurried, gentleness building to lust, and then they made love. And for a while, they forgot everything except pleasure.

It was true what Yuuri had said, Victor reflected, as he gazed at their intertwined hands, gold rings gleaming – the knowledge of what happened would forever bind them; but that wouldn’t be the only thing that would: everything they went through, whether good or bad, all that they shared, whether intense emotional moments or quiet mornings at the beach, only served to bind them together even closer – and isn’t that what marriage was? Isn’t that what Yuuri had hoped for the both of them when he shyly slipped the gold ring on Victor’s finger that magical winter evening in Barcelona?

Victor smiled to himself in the early morning light as he admired their gold rings and pondered their forever connection. He brought Yuuri’s hand to his mouth for another lingering kiss, then closed his eyes and fell asleep again, lips still brushing against Yuuri’s knuckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -There’s something funny to me about Yuuri and Phichit having the ‘John or Paul?’ argument during their college days, using advanced musical and songwriting stuff to support their opinions :)) Probably because I know two people who can never seem to stop (good naturedly, mostly) arguing about it, but they’re always very into it! I block them out most of the time lol. So for the purpose of this story I thought Yuuri would be more the ‘John’ type, and Phichit would be the ‘Paul’ type.
> 
> – Feel free to imagine anything when it comes to how Yuuri’s program for Victor might be like, but I thought of something like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-WQE0vTQUg Of course, this was way back in 2002, so in YOI universe it would be sprinkled with quads and more difficult technical elements.


	14. Pale Gold

 

Pale Gold

 

“So the question remains – _where is Victor Nikiforov_?”

“Let’s sum up for our viewers, shall we? Last appearance of Mr. Nikiforov in public was January 22nd at the European Championships. Since then, we only had random sightings by unreliable witnesses. The cover story, at least we can assume it to be a cover story because it was never proven, was that our national hero has been suffering from a bad case of chickenpox. But what case of chickenpox lasts 5 months??”

“That story was perpetuated by Mr. Yakov Feltsman, Mr. Nikiforov’s coach. Mr. Yuuri Katsuki, who is Mr. Nikiforov’s fiance, and would, as such, be in a position to know more, has been unwilling to comment in order to shed light on this matter.”

“What makes it even more suspicious is that Mr. Katsuki inexplicably skipped the Four Continents and World Championships, to the dismay of his country’s skating federation, but recently started showing up for practice at Yubileyny Sport Club where he trains alongside Mr. Feltsman’s team under the tutelage of the esteemed coach. When questioned about this, Mr. Feltsman replied that Mr. Nikiforov remains Mr. Katsuki’s coach and he only fills the position temporarily. When questioned regarding Mr. Nikiforov’s whereabouts, Mr. Feltsman replied that to the best of his knowledge, his former student is on an extended break to recuperate from his illness, but refused to make an official statement or explain why Mr. Nikiforov wasn’t answering his calls.”

“Before we let our viewers decide for themselves regarding this truly baffling sequence of events, we would like to bring another fact to light. Mr. Nikiforov is not the only skater to have gone missing. Yet another esteemed and valuable Russian skater, Mr. Andrey Sarychev who achieved second place at both Nationals and Europeans, is also nowhere to be found. One wonders why the authorities have remained so unconcerned with these two high profile disappearances. A police officer who did not wish to be named told us that since no one filed the missing persons reports, neither of these cases can be officially considered disappearances, and as such, remain uninvestigated. Well, I can’t speak for you, ladies and gentlemen, but I think this is completely outrageous! In these conditions, one can’t help but wonder, who serves to win from these high profile disappearances of two of our top skaters, and what will it take to get people interested?”

“Excuse me if I may interrupt for a moment, only to mention another fact which may be connected: although not a disappearance, but another type of misfortune aimed at another, as you put it, top level Russian skater, Yuri Plisetsky, who suffered an injury – the first injury of his career in fact, which led him to miss the entire skating season starting with the Russian Nationals-“

Yuuri rolled his eyes wearily at the tv.

“Victor!” he called, towards the kitchen. “You better hurry up and appear in public to lay all these rumors to rest before I get arrested, or lynched.... or both.”

“Eh?” Victor appeared in the doorway, flour on his nose. “Yuuri, I told you not to distract me while I’m cooking! This takes precision!”

“Victor, I don’t understand much Russian, but it seems clear to me that they’re accusing me of doing away with all of you....uhhh? Victor, you have flour on your nose- um... I thought you were making soup?”

“Yes”, Victor sighed. “Your point?”

“Since when does soup need flour?”

Victor threw his hands up dramatically.

“Since forever, Yuuri! Gosh!”

“Ah – okay....”

“If you don’t like it, you can tell me that when you eat it, but first I have to make it, da?”

Yuuri flung himself off the couch and approached Victor.

“Can’t I help?”

“Nyet!”

“At least let me wipe this bit of flour off your nose”, Yuuri said, playfully wiping it away with a finger, as he kissed Victor’s cheek.

“Yuuriiiii – that’s _distracting_!”

“Alright, but this conversation isn’t over. You’ll have to appear in public sooner or later, Victor.”

 

~

Yuuri was as good as his word; and as a result of his insistence, Victor picked up the phone and called the talk show host who had lamented his untimely demise. Although struck speechless in the first moments, the popular tv star then swiftly recovered to promise that they’ll clear their schedule whenever Victor cared enough to grace them with his presence. They’d even make an extra special edition, at prime time, if he so preferred.

“Tomorrow evening”, Victor said. “And I’d like it live, please.”

“Of course, of course! We’ll make it work! Thank you, Victor! Thanks for choosing us!”

 

And so it was that Victor was sitting in a comfortable armchair in a tv studio looking his usual charming self, discussing his absence in a casual, engaging manner, in front of a live audience and several cameras.

“I think that rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated”, he chuckled, as he imagined that at least one person would appreciate his joke. “I have simply been at home recuperating.”

“From the.... chickenpox?”

“Well, the chickenpox was just the start. At my age, these things can have complications. And as you well know, by now I’m _ancient_.”

He gave a sparkling grin as the audience started protesting loudly.

“Ah, I feel age creeping into my old bones”, he insisted, milking it for all it was worth.

“So what happened?” the host asked breathlessly.

“Ah. Well, for starters, I was covered in blisters, and they itched like crazy! I couldn’t possibly show my face outside looking like that! Besides, I had a high fever, I could barely move out of bed! Do you know, I even had those blisters in my mouth and throat, so I couldn’t eat properly. Sometimes I couldn’t even breathe! Naturally, a good night's sleep was out of the question! I tossed and turned all night! I thought I was going to _die_!”

“Ahhhhh!” came the high-pitched reaction from the audience. Some covered their mouths, others cringed.

“You do look like you lost quite a bit of weight”, one of the assistants of the talk show host nodded sympathetically. “Poor Victor!” she cooed.

Victor turned to her:

“It was awful! Such a mess, I felt and looked so horrible, like a monster!” he whined.

“Oh, _you_ could never look ugly”, she giggled.

“But I did! You would’ve been scared to see me!”

She giggled again, and blushed.

“Hmpf”, Yuuri reacted, half resentful, half amused. He was at home, watching the talk show on television, while having a light dinner. He had refused to join Victor, for reasons of self-preservation, he had joked, but the truth was that he was feeling embarrassed and out of his element, dealing with reporters, especially since they’d have had to speak English to accommodate him. He had a feeling that these people, for whom Victor was a national hero, disliked him on principle, even before this whole thing started.

“So, how long until the blisters healed?” the host asked, trying to get the conversation back on track.

“Uhh, god, I don’t know, I lost track of time....I think at least a month! They turned to scabs, which, thank goodness, eventually fell off... But then, another horrible thing happened! Because my immune system was at such an all-time low, it only took one day spent in a cold rink before I was fully recuperated, to set off a bad case of pneumonia!”

The audience gasped.

“Yeah, and I didn’t even know it was pneumonia at first. I just knew I felt tired and wanted to sit around and do nothing all the time, and I had this nagging cough. I finally got diagnosed by a doctor in Moscow. If you’re watching this, doctor, you know who you are - thank you, for everything! He prescribed some very effective treatment and told me to take it easy for a while. I've been healthy for some time now but I decided to take the opportunity and rest... after all, rest is something I don’t usually indulge in!”

“Oh, we all need rest from time to time!” the host said, feelingly, the dark circles under his eyes testifying to that.

“We’re just glad you’re okay!” the assistant simpered. “We were so worried! We thought something had happened to you!”

“I owe it all to Yuuri, who stood by me and nursed me back to health! I can honestly say I wouldn’t have made it without him”, Victor continued seriously. “I don’t deserve the lovely and wonderful man that I’m blessed to call my fiance, but I can do my best to love and cherish him every day!”

Yuuri gulped, strangely touched by the little truths Victor managed to weave in amidst all the bullshitting, and in no small measure by the heartfelt declaration Victor no doubt had meant.

“Right”, the host answered, airily. “Well, Victor, as I’m sure you know, you’re not the only one we’ve been worried about...”

“Naturally, we worried _more_ about _you_ ”, the assistant said coyly, “but there’s also been....”

“.... the tragic and as yet unexeplained dissappearance of Anton Sarychev – “

* _Andrey_ Sarychev, her assistant corrected, with a sharp smile.

“Yes, indeed,” he hissed, glaring at her.

“I didn’t know he’d gone missing. It’s very tragic”, Victor replied, without missing a beat. “But I’m afraid I can’t throw any light on this matter. The only thing I can do is prove that I, for one, am alive and well.”

Victor threw his hair back and winked, and everyone laughed in delight, applauding, both the words, as well as the over-the-top gesture.

“Jeez”, Yuuri said, as he sipped his yogurt. “I can’t believe they’re swallowing it all up, I can see right through you.”

“My young colleague, Yuri Plisetsky, is similarly alive and well”, Victor continued, “and viciously training for the new season, as I’m sure you know... In fact, I asked him to join me here tonight, but he was afraid he’d steal the spotlight from me if he did. Which is of course, true.”

Mingled endeared laughter and ‘awwwh’-ing.

“But I would like, since I’m here and I’ve got all of your attention, to make a big announcement! I have big plans for this summer! In fact, one of the reasons why I’ve been hiding, as you say, all this time, is because I wanted it to be a big surprise. You don’t think a workaholic like me could really go that long without planning something? Hmmm.” Victor placed his index finger on his lips in his well-known gesture, and paused to think, for effect. “I only wonder if I should reveal it to you now....”

Deafening screams of yes (and no).

Yuuri forgot about his yogurt in favor of staring at the screen.

“Of course, I _could_ keep it as a surprise for a little longer... I mean, it’s not all fully settled but...”

A roar from the crowd:

“Please, Victor, tell us!”

“Victor, your fans want to know!” the talk show host joined in, enthusiastically, while his assistant bounced up and down in her seat.

“Ahh, very well”, Victor said, smiling in pleasure at the positive reactions. “I intend to do a touring figure skating show this summer, along with my friends! The premiere will be here in St Petersburg, then Moscow, and then it will move to all countries of participating skaters, with at least one show for each! The last show will be held in Hasetsu, Japan!”

Yuuri dropped the yogurt on the floor and covered his mouth with his hands:

“Victorrrrr!” he yelped. “You never told me that?!?”

At the same time, in another apartment in St Petersburg, Yakov was choking on his beer.

“Are you alright?” Lilia asked him sternly, shoving a napkin his way.

“Idiot boy!” Yakov shouted. “Is he insane?? Did he talk to anyone? Did he talk to _me_?? These sort of things take time! We need sponsors, we need....”

“Actually”, Lilia interrupted, conversationally, “this is pretty clever. Announce it on a popular talk show, and then the sponsors and skaters will come to you, asking to be ‘in on it’, you know?”

Yakov conceded that point after a brief pause.

“But still this sort of thing needs more than a little paper-pushing! Does he just expect that we’d all fall over trying to organize things in record time for him??”

“I agree. This boy has always taken a lot for granted. And we always put up with his crap. Because you always spoiled him. I told you that many times, didn’t I, Yakov? Remember the things I said, when Victor was a child? _Don’t spoil him, Yakov, because he’ll grow up to be a stubborn, impossible man._ And that’s exactly what happened. Too late to change him now.”

Yakov mumbled something about pity, and talent.

“To be fair, his mother was exactly like that, stubborn and entitled, so maybe it’s genetics, too”, Lilia continued.

“Well, whatever else he may be, he sure isn’t boring”, Yakov said, as he gradually calmed down. “I like that about him.”

“...Me too”, Lilia acknowledged.

Their minds were already picturing the event Victor’s words had vividly painted, contacts to call, things to plan, deals to sign.

After a small silence, Yakov chuckled:

“We raised him right, though, didn’t we? I mean, we did our best?”

“Under the circumstances, I guess so. And considering how immature we were ourselves at the time...”

“We did a better job with Yuri.”

“Did we?”

“Eh, probably just as bad.”

  
  
~

Yuuri didn’t call Victor after the show, and waited instead for him to come home.

“I’m baaack!” Yuuri heard his fiance cheer as the front door opened and closed, followed by an ‘ooompf’ which signified that Makkachin had jumped on him. “Hi, pup! Yuuriii~ Are you home?”

“Yeah, I’m here”, Yuuri said, finally getting up from the couch and moving towards Victor. “So why didn’t you tell me, about all that?” he immediately demanded, trying but failing to hide his pout.

Victor stepped close and took Yuuri in his arms, lifting him off the floor and twirling him around.

“It was a last-minute decision! And besides, you’re one of the people I wanted to surprise!”

“I thought we were a team!”

“We are, babe! Awww, don’t sulk! I’m going to skate your beautiful program! No points, no GOE, no stress, just pure enjoyment, for the skater and the crowd! And we’ve got almost a week and a half to come up with _your_ own program for the show!”

“Whaaaaaaat?”

Yuuri’s bewildered scream mirrored his similar one some time ago, when he first caught sight of naked Victor Nikiforov in his parents’ onsen.

 

~

Lilia turned out to have been right. Skaters and sponsors alike flocked to be part of Victor’s touring show. Organizers and venues were found, tickets were selling like hotcakes. Everyone was delighted to be a part of it and do their piece, and the fact that it was so unexpected and last-minute only added to the excitement.

There was, however, one person who took a bit of convincing.

One early morning, the five-time world champion and Olympic medalist shuffled into the Yubileyny Sport Club locker room and warily took a seat next to a sulking blond teenager who was busy tying his laces and didn’t acknowledge his entrance.

“Good morning, Yuratchka,” the older Russian greeted.

“What do you want?” the younger snapped.

“I was going to ask you whether you’d like to join my summer touring show.”

“Aren’t you afraid of being ‘overshadowed’ by me? Answer’s _no_ , by the way.”

Victor chuckled.

“So you did watch the talk show.”

“Well, I sure didn’t want to. I left Yakov and Lilia to watch by themselves, but I ended up in a bar where they were showing it anyway.”

“Aren’t you a little too young to be drinking in bars?” Victor frowned.

“Had to put up with your smug face”, Yuri continued as if Victor hadn’t spoken. “Can you believe the entire assembly of drunk assholes who were there, fucking _applauded_ when you announced it?”

Victor beamed.

“I love it! Yuri, that’s it! That’s it exactly, that’s what I’ve always wanted to do! Put happy smiles on people’s faces, make them wonder, make them dream! Shock them – BAM! – out of their complacency! That’s why I’ve done what I’ve been doing, for so long!”

“So why’d you stop, then?” Yuri asked aggressively.

Victor kept silent, waiting for Yuri to reach the obvious conclusion.

“Why do you think I stopped?” he prodded, when Yuri didn’t take the hint.

Yuri frowned and huffed.

“Because”, he eventually said, “....you felt like you no longer couldn’t?”

“Exactly, Yuri! I knew you of all people would understand.”

Yuri nodded, seriously.

“And now?” he inquired. “What’s changed?”

“I don’t know”, Victor shrugged. “I just feel inspired to try again.”

“You don’t know”, Yuri mimicked, “Pfffft. It’s Katsudon’s program, isn’t it?”

“Yes”, Victor acknowledged, with a smile. “Yuuri’s program certainly inspired me.”

“Then just say it. It’s a good program, by the way, you’d even win medals with it. Even I have to admit. Of course, I’d change a few things, add some more difficult elements to it...Hey, what the fuck? Why are you crying? Alright, alright, I’ll join your stupid ice show, just – fucking stop crying.”

“No, it’s not that, I knew you’d say yes eventually, Yuratchka – thank you so much, I can’t wait to work with you again, it will be so much fun”, Victor sobbed, wiping at his eyes.

Yuri stared at him, bewildered:

“Well then, why are you bawling??”

“It’s just.... I suddenly realized....that... Yuuri’s saved me so many times. All he’s ever done since we’ve met, is save me, over and over again. It’s like he’s my guardian angel. I don’t dese-“

“If you’re gonna say you don’t deserve him, I’m gonna slap you silly. If you ask me, you two deserve each other, and I don’t mean it as a compliment, either. Now, stop crying and being sappy about it, that’s about as much mush as I can take for one day. Let’s talk business.”

  


~

The show premiered in St Petersburg, and as promised, the next show was in Moscow. Next stop was Almaty in Kazakhstan, and then it moved across Europe, to Italy, Spain, Switzerland, Poland, Czech Republic, Finland, – then it went on to North and South America, then Thailand, China, South Korea, and finally Japan.

It immediately triumphed, praised by the public and the critics alike, drawing huge crowds wherever they went.  


A lot of top skaters, as well as newcomers, were happy to join in, ensuring the show would be a success if only for the lineup alone. Most of them had exhibition-style programs ready for use in case they made the podium, or for shows they planned to do during the off-season, and were delighted to flaunt them on this occasion.

Yuuri ended up skating a sensual and striking program which incorporated elements from his _Eros,_ sprinkled with more sensational exhibition style elements. It became an instant public favorite, not least because of the leather costume which Victor had picked for Yuuri. The public also kept asking Yuuri for encores, and specifically for segments of his _Yuri on Ice_ , so Yuuri ended up including his record-breaking program in all shows.

  
Victor skated Yuuri’s program for him towards the middle of the show, and towards the end Victor and Yuuri reprised their Stammi Vicino duet. At the very end, all the participants returned on the ice for a synchronized program.

 

But the program Victor decided to open the premiere show with came as a complete surprise to Yuuri:

  
As he stood in the stands and watched Victor fly across the ice in his Firebird costume, Yuuri felt like he was 12 again, watching his idol for the first time. Victor could compel his entire attention, then and now – just as completely.

When Victor announced his intention to skate the Firebird again, Yuuri was shocked. He thought Victor would never touch that program ever again, let alone that costume. Not that it was the very same costume which both of them associated with such horrible memories. Any experienced skater had at least 2 similar costumes made for a season, in case something happened to one of them, and they found themselves in need of a backup on short notice – accidents involving loose threads or tearing were rather common. The costume Victor had been wearing when Yuuri found him in the bathroom after the European Championships had long since been thrown away by Yuuri. The identical spare had remained hidden in a closet - until Victor brought it to light.

“I’m only going to skate the Firebird program twice”, Victor had explained to Yuuri, as he smoothed the pristine fabric with his hand. “At the premiere in Piter, the first skate of the night, and at the end of the show in Hasetsu.”

“Alright”, Yuuri replied with some uncertainty. “Are you sure that...?”

“Yes, it’s fine. I need it to be like this. It’s like Yuri said, and you said something similar too. I should go out there and skate it to prove to myself that nothing that happened can taint me, or the program I made and put so much work and love into."

“You don’t think now it has an even stronger meaning?” Yuuri asked, in a soft voice, taking Victor’s hand to caress it comfortingly, and Victor looked at him with wide eyes, nodding slowly in acknowledgement, and squeezed Yuuri's hand.

 

Now, watching Victor from the crowded stands as he became the Firebird on the ice, Yuuri’s mind returned to that conversation. It was true. Victor was the firebird, always elusive, always mysterious, in a constant cycle of reinvention, shedding old skin to reveal new sides of himself, his beauty and magic both a blessing and a curse. Under different circumstances, Yuuri might have chided himself for his overly dramatic thoughts, but then again, this was _Victor_. Yuuri had always seen him as larger than life, endowed with mythical abilities. Maybe also because Yuuri was so in love. Maybe also because he had been living with Victor for almost two years now and perhaps being extra was catching.

  
~

Both Maya and Jacek Stolski received plus one VIP tickets to the premiere of the first event of the tour in St Petersburg, as well as to the after party, and both showed up – Jacek with his wife, Olga, and Maya with her girlfriend, Irina.

“I can never tell people about it, and perhaps you think that’s cowardly of me, but that doesn’t mean I’m any less grateful”, Victor told them during a quiet moment together. “This is just a small expression of my gratitude. I means a lot that you’re here. Please also come to the show in Moscow, and sit in my guest box.”

“Your gift is gladly received”, Stolski answered happily. “even though I for one did little to earn it. Ah, don’t cry. This is your moment of celebration.”

“And it’s a great moment for us, too!” Maya gushed. “Me at least! Wow! Never thought I’d see so many of my favorite skaters up close! It was a fantastic show, absolutely amazing!”

“She’s such a fangirl”, Irina said fondly. “I’m really happy to have met you and your fiance. Your performance together set to that opera duet was the highlight of the evening for me. Beautiful!”

Maya grinned pointedly at her, as if vindicated.

“Oh, it was the highlight of the evening for me as well”, Victor chuckled. “I love skating with Yuuri!”

 

~

“How did it feel, setting foot on the ice again in front of a crowd?” Maya asked Victor during their next session.

“I don’t know”, Victor answered truthfully. “It felt good, exciting. But this was different, since it’s not a competition, it’s just for fun.”

“And are you having fun?”

“Yeah, I am. And it seems everyone else is, too – and that pleases me, that I can still make people happy.”

“Do you still think you’re unworthy to win?”

“No. I don’t know. I’ve stopped thinking in terms of worthy or unworthy. I might have a good day or I might have a bad day.”

“That’s a healthy way of thinking.”

“But – I still don’t know if I want to. And a part of me still thinks I owe Yuuri.”

“Yuuri wouldn’t want anything that goes against your wishes. You know that now, Victor.”

“Yes. But sometimes it’s easier for me to just go along with what Yuuri wants when I find it difficult to decide what _I_ want”, Victor answered honestly.

“Alright”, Maya nodded. “Then this is your homework for our next session. Think about what you want.”

Victor smiled:

“You’re a stern teacher.”

“And you respond well to stern teachers”, Maya acknowledged, returning his smile.

  
  
~

“It’s been seven months”, Maya told Victor unexpectedly, one day.

“Seven months?” he replied blankly.

“Yes. Fairytale seven? Remember?” she said lightly. “I’ve come for your first born”, she pretended to growl, then coughed.

“Oh, you mean, since we....?”

“First met, yeah”, Maya nodded. “Also since we made that deal.”

Victor reflected. It was August and their first meeting must have been sometime in early February, Victor couldn’t remember the exact date, but then again his memory of those dark times was rather fuzzy, and Victor was secretly grateful for that. He offered a small uncertain smile.

“I don’t even remember what that deal was for....I mean, I remember roughly, but.... wow, I was a different person back then... so much has happened...”

“Time”, said Maya.

“Huh?”

“Well, the deal was for time – and the thing that’s happened since we made that deal, was the passing of time, with the good and bad things that come out of it.”

Victor considered it. His brow furrowed as his mind revisited the passing of time and everything that happened since, and he shook his head.

“Maya, don’t sell yourself short. You helped me so much, you have no idea.”

“I’m glad, Victor.”

“I wish I could express in words how grateful I am, but I’m not as good with words as you are. You’ll just have to come to Japan and see the last show of the tour.”

“I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”  


~

Yuuri and Victor sat next to each other, shoulders brushing, playing footsie under the table. The night was warm and sweetly scented, they were in Yuuri's home town which held such wonderful memories for the both of them, they were happy and in love, with drinks in hand and grins on their faces. They were surrounded by friends and the world loved them, and the world was theirs to love. As the years go by and the shadows lengthen, they’d be visited by the memory of those moments, bringing a smile to their old faces, they’d remind one another and laugh, shaking their heads, at their younger selves: _how crazy we were, what fun we had, we’re still crazy and we still have fun, but to be young and stupid again, ah it’s too bad you only live once._

  
“I have another idea for your costume next season, Yuuri.”

“Oh yes?”

“One word: fishnets!”

“Victor! Why me??”

“Because you’d look fantastic in fishnets, Yuuri! Wouldn’t he?”

Sara Crispino nodded fervently from across the table.

“Only if you wear them too, Victor.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Then something equally outrageous!”

“How about... _lace?_  " Christophe volunteered. " _Gold_ _lace_! for the gold medalist!”

Yuuri burst into helpless laughter, tears streaming down his face.

“Holy shit”, he gasped.

“Thank you, Chris, that's a lovely suggestion! Don't you think so, Yuuri? We can do another duet together!”

“To what?” Yuri Plisetsky piped up, disgusted. “Lady Gaga’s _Born this way_?”

“That’s actually a good idea, Yura! Thanks!”

“Ahahaha, stop! I’m dying!” Yuuri gasped for breath.

“And we’ll skate like the whole world’s watching us!” Victor went on, raising his voice, as the drinks got to his head.

“ _You’_ ll skate like the whole world’s watching. I’ll skate like nobody’s watching. Or like only someone special is.”

“Oh, and who might that someone be?” Victor asked, in mock-anger.

“Oh, just a guy. You wouldn’t know him,” Yuuri answered, grinning, then shrieked, as Victor glomped him, then slid his fingers underneath his shirt. “Ahh no, stop, don’t – you’re tickling me!”

“This guy - is he taller than me? Yuuuriiiii - is he more flexible than me??”

“Ahahaha, Victor! I could search the whole world, no one is better than you. Or more surprising.”

"Yuuri!!”

“Ouch! Yes, Victor?”

“Yuuri! Marry me!"

“...I haven’t won gold yet, have I? That means we can’t marry yet.”

“Ah, but I only said that then to motivate you!” Victor whined.

“I know. But it’s become kind of our thing, hasn’t it? And I’m okay with it. Like in the fairytales, I have to prove myself before I win the hand of the fairest of them all.”

“Wow, Yuuri!”

“And then we’ll have a big wedding!”

“We’ll invite everyone!”

“It will last 7 days and 7 nights!”

“Spanning across four continents!”

“Mountains of food and rivers of drink.”

“...especially rivers of drink.”

“Champagne! Gotta celebrate the drink which brought us together!”

“And then I’ll burn my firebird costume.”

“...Oh.”

“Maybe I’ll burn it on stage at the last event of the tour! Make a big show out of it. Fire and ice!”

“.....”

“And I’ll have an even shinier one made!”

“Vi-Vic-”

“Yuuri? Was that too much?”

“Ah, perhaps a tad too much, yes. But also... fitting. Maybe to create something you have to destroy something first”, Yuuri said, his tone suddenly wistful.

Victor kissed the corner of Yuuri’s mouth.

“Always”, Victor answered, not questioning why Yuuri had suddenly turned serious; and neither asked the other what they meant, because they both knew.

  


~

“Ah, Yakov, there you are! I want to build a fire on the ice! How can we go about it, can you help me?”

Yakov’s teeth gritted like an angry bulldog, and the vein on his forehead, which Yuuri had by now dubbed the ‘Victor is being stupid again’ vein, started twitching, as if on cue.

  


However, as it turned out, kindling a merry fire on the surface of an ice rink was simply a question of finding the right people for the job. One of Minako’s ballet pupils was a science student, and very passionate about figure skating. He was immediately hired on the event’s technical team.

“We’ll make a square structure with large pieces of wood at the bottom and put the small pieces which are going to burn faster on top”, he explained. “Unless the fire goes on for hours on end, the ice underneath won’t melt at all. And even if you do intend to have the fire going all day, the ashes from the smaller logs and the bottom logs which take longer to catch fire will form a barrier which keeps the hot coals from burning through the thick layer of ice.

“Oh, it won’t go on all day”, Victor reassured him. “The show in its entirety doesn’t last more than two hours and a half, and this will be only for the ending.”

“Then it’s easy, and no more hazard than a small camp fire. We’ll just make sure the structure is perfectly square so that the heat is evenly distributed and no spot gets extra heated. That’s gonna slow the melting process even more.”

“What do you mean even more?” Takeshi reacted, following the proceedings anxiously. “You said it won’t melt at all.”

“For less than an hour, it won’t melt at all.”

“It will be less than two minutes, if I have a say in it!” Yakov growled.

“Yakov!” Victor whined, then turned to the science student: “Don’t listen to him. I decide how long. It will be at least 10 minutes. I have to do my routine, then I’ll take off my costume – I’ll wear something black and skintight underneath, don’t worry”, he winked, “then I’ll throw it into the flames. “My Firebird costume, get it?” he beamed. “And then, I’ll wait for it to burn. And then.... well, I guess you’ll have to tell me how I put out the fire, since I’ll be the only one on the ice then. And I don’t want someone to come and do it for me”, he warned, with a glance at Yakov.

“Nah, it’s gonna be cool. You don’t have to do anything. You just let it die on its own.”

“Really?”

“Sure, man. Once it stops burning through what you have, it just dies on its own if you don’t feed it.”

Victor’s face lit up into a smile.

“I love that! Wow! Amazing! Thank you!”

“D-don’t mention it, I guess. Heh. Glad I could help?” the man offered, a little bedazzled by Victor’s blinding heart-shaped smile directed entirely at him.

 

~

The touring show is almost over. In Hasetsu’s Ice Castle, the crowd and skaters alike watch the flames as they burn through the Firebird costume. No one knows the true significance of the act, except for the person who set fire to it, his fiance, his coach, his younger team mate and friend, his therapist watching enraptured from the stands, as well as an old man who will see the performance later on television and smile wistfully. As for the others who watch from the stands, and don't share that knowledge, the act is no less poignant for them not knowing. They understand at least a part of it, and they instinctively know it is momentous and are caught up in the dramatic spectacle of it.

Victor Nikiforov stands straight and motionless on the ice, a striking presence, his black skintight costume contrasting sharply with the scenery, as well as with his fair skin and silver hair. A slight smile plays upon his face. Hundreds of eyes are watching with rapture the display he orchestrated. The show will end as it started, with thundering success.

Next season, he may take his records back. Or he may not. He might even win another Olympic gold. Who’s to say? As Victor stands in the middle of the ice rink, the brightness of the flames making his face glow with a pale gold, he doesn’t even know yet whether he’ll return to competition at all – to fight in the rink, or support from the stands. For sure, whatever he’ll eventually choose to do will be impulsive and surprising, as always.

“I’ve already died once”, he thinks, as he watches the fire burn merrily, the ice mirroring it, steady and unyielding underneath. “I’ve got nothing more to fear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ So I still couldn’t help including the small Chihoko reference?? :DD And it's funny how the whole 'Victor and friends' thing went so well with what I had in mind from the beginning - ie: Victor doing and ice show w/ all his friends!
> 
> Phew, so I’ve finally reached the end, can you believe?? Here’s hoping you guys liked it! Thanks loads for sticking with it and for the kudos and comments!! MWAH <333


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